GIFT   OF 
A.    F,    Morrison 


STARS  OF  THE  OPERA 

By 

MABEL  WAGNALLS 


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Photographs  Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont  and  Falk,  New  York. 

"STAES   OF  THE   OPERA/' 


STARS  OF  THE  OPERA 


A  description  of  twelve  operas  and  a  series  of  personal 

sketches,  with  interviews,  of  Marcella  Sennbrich, 

Ennma  Eames,  Emma  Calve,  Lillian  Nor- 

dica,  Lilli  Lehmann  and  Nellie  Melba 


BY 

MABEL   WAGNALLS 

AUTHOR    OF    "miserere" 


FUNK    &    WAGXALLS    COMPANY 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
1906 


\) 


o\ 


/^MUSIC   LIBRARY     \ 

OF  CAiirORMIA 
\^         BERKELEY 


Copyright,  1899, 
By 

FUNK    &     WAGNALLS    COMPANY 

Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
I  Printed  in  the  United  States] 


GIFT  OF 


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I  •■•  /  • 


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To    those    who    love    music    but    have 
no  opportunity  to  familiarize  them- 
selves with  grand  opera  this 
book  is  respectfully 
dedicated 


r^94425 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

An    Interview    with    Marcella    Sembrich,     13 

••  Semiramide," 25 

A  Call  on  Emma  Eames 43 

"Faust," 57 

"Werther," 79 

Calv^  and  "Carmen," 105 

"Carmen," 117 

"Hamlet," 143 

A  Talk  with  Lillian  Nordica,     .         .         .   169 

"Lohengrin," 185 

"AiDA," 215 

"The  Huguenots," 239 

An  Hour  with  Lilli  Lehmann,  .  .  .  265 
"The  Flying  Dutchman,"  ....  279 
Melba,  the  Australian  Nightingale,  .  303 

"Lakme," 315 

"I  Pagliacci," 337 

"Orpheus  and  Eurydice,"     ....  357 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Group  of  Miniature  Portraits,  "  Stars  of  the 

Opera,"     ......  Frontispiece. 

Marcella  Sembrich,         .         .         .         Facing  page  1 5 

Sembrich  as  Rosina  in  the  '  •  The  Barber 

of  Seville,"        .         .         .         .         .  **  '•  22 

Emma  Eames,     .         .         .         .         .  '*  **  45 

Melba  as  Marguerite  in  ••  Faust,"           .  ••  '*  64 

Emma  Calve,        .         .         .         .         ,  **  "  107 

Calve  as  Carmen,          .         .         ,         ,  '•  *'  128 

Calve  as  Ophelia  in  "  Hamlet,"     .         .  "  '*  164 

Lillian  Nordica,    .         .         .         .         .  **  •*  171 

Nordica  as  Brunhilde  in  "  Siegfried,"     .  '*  **  182 

Eames  as  Elsa  in  "  Lohengrin, "    .         .  **  **  202 

Nordica  as  Aida,           .         .         .         .  **  "  220 

Lilli  Lehmann, *'  "  267 

Lehmann   as    Isolde    in    "Tristan    and 

Isolde," «•  •«  270 

Lehmann  as  Venus  in  "  Tannhauser, "  .  "  "  276 

Nellie  Melba, *•  •*  305 

Melba  as  Juliet  in  •*  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  •*  *'  312 


An  Interview 
with 

Marcella  Sembrich 


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Copyright  by  Aiine  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

MARCELLA  SEMBRICH, 


STARS  OF  THE   OPERA. 


AN   INTERVIEW    WITH    MARCELLA 

SEMBRICH. 

Early  in  the  season  of  1898-99  there  was 
a  performance  of  "  Traviata  "  in  the  Metro- 
politan Opera-House  which  might  be  de- 
scribed as  "  an  occasion  of  superlatives  " — 
including  the  largest  auditorium,  the  big- 
gest audience,  the  finest  singers. 

Grand  opera  in  itself  is  a  culmination  and 
combination  of  the  greatest  efforts  of  the 
greatest  minds.  There  is,  in  the  first  place, 
the  plot  of  the  libretto,  which  in  the  case  of 
"Traviata"  was  the  masterpiece  of  Dumas, 
France's  greatest  dramatist — a  man  who 
labored  all  his  life  as  tho  achievement  re- 
quired only  work,  and   who  yet  possessed 

15 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

such  mental  power  as  no  amount  of  work 
could  achieve. 

After  Dumas  comes  the  librettist  who 
transposed  the  story  into  suitable  Italian 
verse  to  be  set  to  music.  And  then  we  have 
the  work,  the  inmost  thoughts,  of  Giuseppe 
Verdi,  Italy's  greatest  living  composer. 
There  was  a  day  when  each  of  these  spark- 
ling melodies  that  now  delight  the  whole 
world  was  born  in  the  soul  of  Verdi,  and 
heard  by  him  alone.  But  he  patiently  put 
upon  paper  every  note  that  his  years  of 
study  and  his  gifted  soul  impelled. 

The  work  of  the  composer,  the  dramatist, 
and  the  librettist  belongs  to  the  past,  how- 
ever, and  that  audience  of  five  thousand  peo- 
ple did  not  bestow  much  thought  on  them. 
Nor  did  they  think  very  often  of  the  orches- 
tra, composed  of  fifty  thorough  musicians, 
who  really  worked  more  during  the  perfor- 
mance than  any  of  the   other  participants. 

It   may   be   mentioned    here   that   in  all 

grand  operas  the  orchestra  plays  continually; 

it   is  the  wall  upon    which  the   picture  is 

i6 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

hung.     There  may  be  pauses  in  the  singing, 
but  the  conductor's  baton  never  rests. 

People  seldom  appreciate  the  vast  knowl- 
edge of  music  and  the  remarkable  ability  in 
sight-reading  which  these  orchestra  players 
possess.  Not  one  of  them  but  has  worked 
at  his  art  from  childhood;  most  of  them 
play  several  different  instruments ;  and  they 
all  hold  as  a  creed  that  a  false  note  is  a  sin, 
and  a  variation  in  rhythm  is  a  fall  from 
grace.  The  director  is  their  temporary 
deity  who  commands  the  orchestra  beneath 
and  the  stage  above — a  little  universe  of 
music.  He  holds  all  together  and  dictates 
the  tempo,  the  expression,  and  the  phra- 
sing. His  commands  are  for  the  time  being 
immutable  as  the  laws  of  nature,  for  any 
serious  disobedience  would  cause  the  whole 
structure  to  fall  to  pieces. 

The  five  thousand  listeners  gave  some 
applause  to  the  director  after  the  playing  of 
the  introduction,  and  they  gave  a  little  more 
to  the  chorus — those  earnest  workers  who 
serve  grand  opera  as  the  stokers  do  a  ship. 

2  17 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

Then  the  tenor  received  a  good  deal  of  ap- 
plause— his  reward  for  training  his  voice, 
studying  music,  memorizing  operas,  over- 
coming nervousness,  and  singing  in  public 
twenty  years. 

But  the  great  applause,  the  "bravos,"  the 
cheering,  the  excitement,  were  reserved  for 
the  star,  the  soprano — Marcella  Sembrich! 
It  is  always  impressive  to  witness  such  a 
success.  It  is  inspiring  to  know  that  one 
woman  can  so  stir  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

Madame  Sembrich 's  voice  is  as  perfect  a 
voice  as  the  world  has  ever  heard.  Yet 
her  greatness  consists  more  in  her  art  than 
in  her  voice.  She  has  not  been  satisfied 
merely  to  use  her  gift  as  nature  gave  it,  but 
she  has  acquired  a  mastery  of  tone-coloring 
so  that  every  tone  has  a  meaning  of  its  own, 
and  seems  to  express  a  distinct  emotion. 
In  the  last  act  of  "Traviata  "  the  quality  of 
her  tones,  always  beautiful,  but  ever  vary- 
ing as  her  art  dictates,  conveys  to  the  lis- 
tener surely  and  truly  the  approach  of  death 

and  the  hope  of  heaven.     This  is  great  art 

i8 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

indeed.  No  wonder  the  audience  fairly 
gasps  as  the  last  sweet  tone  leaves  the  lips 
of  the  pale  Violetta  and  soars  away  into 
infinite  space. 

It  was  the  day  after  "Traviata,"  when, 
in  response  to  a  knock  at  Madame  Sem- 
brich's  door  in  the  Hotel  Savoy,  a  mellow 
voice  said,  "Come  in." 

On  my  obeying  this  summons,  the  singer 
was  "  discovered  " — as  the  librettos  have  it — 
standing  near  her  grand  piano,  alone,  and 
as  unostentatious  as  your  own  sister. 

There  was  no  effect  of  the  impressive 
prima  donna,  all  flowers  and  frills  and 
frou-frou.  She  was  quite  alone,  just  as 
lesser  mortals  sometimes  are;  and  she 
furthermore  spared  her  visitor  from  any 
sense  of  interrupted  work,  or  great  haste, 
or  the  magnitude  of  the  occasion. 

It  was  just  a  courteous,  quiet  lady  who 
seated  herself  beside  the  visitor  and  talked 
earnestly  about  music  and  work. 

When  asked  how  early  she  began  to  study 
the   art    seriously,    she   replied :    "  When    I 

19 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

was  six  years  old.  My  father  taught  me 
the  piano  until  I  was  ten.  He  was  a  very 
gifted  man.  Then  I  also  studied  for  a  while 
with  Dr.  Stengel,  who  is  now  my  husband, 
and  with  Epstein  in  Vienna." 

On  learning  that  her  visitor  was  acquainted 
with  Vienna,  Madame  Sembrich's  face 
lighted  up  (she  has  a  radiant  smile) :  "  Ach ! 
then  you  speak  German?"  And  from  this 
point  she  talked  altogether  in  German,  which 
is  more  akin  to  her  native  Polish. 

She  is  fluent,  however,  in  all  the  con- 
tinental languages.  "We  have  to  know 
them  all,  for  we  need  them  constantly,"  she 
explained.  In  reply  to  other  questions,  the 
singer  told  enthusiastically  of  her  early 
work. 

"  I  can  not  say  I  was  ever  discouraged, 

for  I  so  enjoyed  my  art  that  it  was  always 

of  absorbing  interest ;  but  my  whole  life  has 

been  made  up  of  hard  work,  always  work. 

I  also  studied  the  violin   and   composition, 

and  I  used  to  rise  early  and  go  to  bed  late, 

for  I  worked  six  and  seven  hours  a  day." 

20 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Madame  Sembrich  is  one  of  the  most  thor- 
ough, all-round  musicians  on  the  lyric  stage 
to-day,  for  she  is  not  only  a  singer,  but  has 
played  successfully  in  public  on  piano  and 
violin.  Her  rare  gift  of  voice  was  not  dis- 
covered until  she  was  seventeen.  Then  her 
great  knowledge  of  music  enabled  her  to 
quickly  develop  the  voice,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  she  appeared  in  opera  and  made 
her  first  great  success  m  London.  When 
asked  if  she  was  ever  nervous,  the  answer 
came  promptly: 

"Oh,  yes,  very  nervous!  Now  I  am  al- 
ways nervous.  But  in  the  early  days  it  was 
not  so  bad.  When  you  are  young  and  have 
a  beautiful  voice,  you  think  it  is  all  that  is 
necessary,  and  are  not  nervous,  because  you 
do  not  realize  the  depth  and  extent  of  art. 
But  as  you  grow  older  you  appreciate  the 
possibilities  of  art — you  know  what  it  im- 
plies, and  how  perfect  you  wish  to  make  it; 
and  then  you  are  nervous.  It  is  more  ner- 
vous work,  too,  for  such  artists  as  Madame 
Patti,  Madame  Melba,  or  myself,  who  travel 

21 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

about  and  sing  first  in  one  place  and  then 
in  another,  because  each  time  we  have  to 
win  our  audience  and  make  a  new  conquest. 
In  Europe,  at  the  great  opera-houses  such 
as  are  in  Vienna  or  Berlin,  it  is  different, 
for  there  the  singers  are  engaged  perma- 
nently. The  public  knows  how  well  they 
can  do,  and  if  sometimes  they  are  not  at 
their  best,  they  know  the  public  will  excuse 
them.  I  find  I  am  more  nervous,  too,  as 
my  reputation  increases,  for  more  is  ex- 
pected of  me." 

Referring  again  to  her  studies,  Madame 
Sembrich  counted  over  thirty-seven  full 
operas  that  she  has  learned.  It  is  well  to 
consider  for  a  moment  what  this  implies. 
Aside  from  the  native  gifts  of  voice,  musical 
talent,  and  dramatic  temperament,  there 
must  be  years  of  practise  in  singing  and 
acting ;  then  the  words  of  each  opera  must 
be  memorized,  sometimes  in  three  lan- 
guages. After  studying,  originating,  and 
mastering  the  action,  the  music  must  be 
learned,  and  every  word  wedded  to  a  certain 

22 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  X.  Y. 

Sembrich  as  Rosina  in  "  The  Barber  of  Seville. 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

tone,  and  every  tone  to  a  certain  beat  of 
time.  Herein  the  actress  has  but  a  slight 
task  compared  to  the  opera  singer,  for  in 
the  drama  it  matters  not  if  a  word  comes  a 
moment  sooner  or  later ;  but  in  grand  opera 
a  second's  deviation  might  cause  a  discord. 

Madame  Sembrich  delights  in  the  opera 
"  Traviata  "  because  of  its  intense  action. 

"  But  I  like,  too,  the  lighter  operas.  The 
merriment  of  '  Rosina  '  amuses  me  as  I  act 
it." 

One  more  question  was  asked  as  her 
visitor  arose  to  go. 

"Is  it  true,  Madame  Sembrich,  that  you 
walk  two  hours  every  day?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered  good-humoredly. 
"  I  had  just  returned  to-day  when  you  came. 
I  started  at  eleven  and  got  home  at  one." 

Regular  and  rigorous  in  her  daily  life 
even  yet!  Upon  meeting  Madame  Sem- 
brich, one  receives  an  impression  of  gra- 
ciousness  and  greatness  not  to  be  forgotten. 


23 


6t 


Semiramide" 


"SEMIR  AMIDE." 

All  great  prima  donnas  have  in  their 
repertoire  the  majority  of  famous  operas, 
but  through  fitness  of  physique  or  tempera- 
ment or  quality  of  voice  they  become  asso- 
ciated with  certain  roles  more  than  others. 
Sometimes  it  is  merely  a  caprice  of  the 
public  that  holds  them  to  a  particular  line 
of  operas.  At  present  Madame  Sembrich  is 
regarded  as  the  great  exponent  of  the  old 
Italian  school.  Among  her  thirty-seven 
operas  *'  Semiramide  "  is  one  in  which  New 
Yorkers  have  not  yet  heard  her ;  but  it  is  in 
some  respects  the  most  typical  of  its  kind. 

"  Semiramide  "  belongs  to  the  old  style  of 

Italian  operas.     It  is  light  in  substance,  but 

glistening  with  scales  and  cadenzas  that  are 

scattered  over  it  like  spangles   upon  tulle. 

Rossini's  music  is  alwavs  beautiful  but  con- 

veys  little  meaning,   and  it  impresses  the 

27 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

modern  musical  taste  like  a  meal  of  bon- 
bons. Although  Semiramis  lived  hundreds 
of  years  before  the  Christian  era,  we  listen 
in  vain  for  any  ancient  atmosphere  to  the 
composition  or  for  the  ^^  melodrame  tragicoy" 
as  designated  by  the  libretto.  This  music 
would  be  as  suitable  to  the  "  Barber  of 
Seville  "  as  to  the  "  Queen  of  Babylon."  In 
other  words,  the  old  operas  were  a  series  of 
separate  songs  adapted  to  a  connected  story, 
whereas  we  now  expect  the  score  to  so 
thoroughly  embody  the  text  that  the  two 
are  inseparable. 

"Semiramide,"  however,  bears  several 
claims  to  distinction  that  prevent  the  possi- 
bility of  extinction.  It  is  the  opera  par 
excellence  of  duets.  They  are  the  delightful, 
old-fashioned  kind,  wherein  the  two  voices 
are  side  by  side,  only  separated  by  a  perfect 
third ;  and  when  the  conductor  has  whipped 
up  a  good  tempo  away  they  go  like  a  span 
of  horses,  over  hills  and  valleys  of  scales 
and  arpeggios,  bridged-over  intervals,  and 

clumps  of  trills.     Differing  from  all  other 

28 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

operas,  this  one  gives  as  much  prominence  to 
the  contralto  as  to  the  soprano.  They  must 
have  equal  facility  of  execution;  and,  in- 
deed, none  of  the  roles  are  exempt  from  this 
demand.  Tenor,  contralto,  baritone,  and 
bass  vie  with  each  other  in  performing- 
dangerous  feats  of  vocal  agility.  There  are 
passages  where  they  all,  one  after  another, 
run  up  a  scale  and  land  on  a  certain  note, 
like  athletes  jumping  from  a  spring-board. 
We  smile  at  such  display,  and  are  inclined 
to  regard  che  opera  as  one  big  solfeggio; 
but  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  this  is  the 
old  Italian  style,  and  interesting  from  this 
point  of  view. 

Another  claim  to  lasting  fame  is  its  over- 
ture— one  of  the  prettiest,  happiest,  showiest 
orchestral  compositions  extant.  It  is  a 
stock  program  piece,  being  simple  enough 
for  any  orchestra  to  perform  and  yet  rousing 
enough  to  always  elicit  applause. 

The  opening  scene  represents  a  temple 
wherein  Oroe,  the  chief  of  the  Magi,  is  dis- 
covered kneeling  before  an  altar.      He  has 

29 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

received  a  celestial  revelation  of  some  dark 
crime  that  is  awaiting  vengeance,  and  his 
first  short  recitative  refers  to  this  secret. 
Arising  from  his  knees,  Oroe  orders  the 
gates  of  the  temple  to  be  opened.  The 
Assyrian  multitude  enter  bearing  offerings 
and  garlands,  while  they  sing  a  light  melody 
that  would  do  for  a  modern  topical  song. 
Idrenus,  an  Indian  prince,  also  comes  in 
with  his  attendants,  bearing  incense  and 
offerings.  He  is  the  tenor,  but  unimportant, 
because  this  opera  has  no  love-scene,  and 
consequently  little  use  for  a  tenor.  Assur, 
an  Assyrian  potentate,  is  another  devout 
supplicant  at  the  altar  of  Belus.  And  we 
soon  learn  the  occasion  of  these  earnest 
efforts  to  propitiate  the  gods:  Semiramis, 
the  queen,  v/ill  to-day  select  a  successor  to 
the  late  King  Ninus. 

A  very  good  example  of  what  we  consider 
the  incongruities  of  the  old  school  is  found 
in  these  first  two  arias  of  Idrenus  and  Assur. 
The  tenor  comes  in  alone  and  delivers  a 

flourishing    solo,    ornate    as    his    costume. 

30 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Then  Assiir,  the  basso,  makes  his  entrance 
and  sings  in  a  lower  key  the  same  remark- 
able pyrotechnics.  This  antagonizes  the 
fundamental  rnle  of  modern  opera,  which 
requires  each  character  to  maintain  a  musical 
individuality.  There  is  some  further  con- 
versation in  the  form  of  a  terzetto  between 
Idrenus,  Assur,  and  Oroe,  and  the  fact  is 
disclosed  that  Assur  expects  the  queen's 
choice  to  fall  on  him. 

Another  light  and  bright  chorus  an- 
nounces the  entrance  of  Semiramis.  She  is 
represented  as  young  and  beautiful,  al- 
tho  she  is  a  widow  and  the  mother  of  a 
son  v/ho  mysteriously  disappeared  years  be- 
fore the  story  opens.  But  radiant  as  is  her 
appearance,  Semiramis  opens  the  ceremonies 
with  uneasiness,  for  she  has  determined  to 
make  Arsaces  the  future  king.  He  is  a 
young  army  officer,  and  there  is  no  just 
reason  why  he  should  be  favored;  but  the 
queen  has  become  enamored  of  him. 
Arsaces,  however,  is  unconscious  of  her  in- 
fatuation.    She  has  summoned  him  to  this 

31 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ceremony;  but  he  has  not  yet  arrived,  and 
for  this  reason  she  hesitates.  In  a  quartet 
that  is  worked  up  like  a  rondo  upon  a  very 
pleasing  theme,  the  others  urge  her  to 
begin.  She  reluctantly  steps  forward,  but 
at  her  first  mention  of  the  dead  king  there 
is  a  flash  of  lightning  and  the  sacred  fires  are 
extinguished.  The  people  regard  this  as  a 
dire  omen.  Oroe  glances  knowingly  at  both 
Semiramis  and  Assur  as  he  again  refers  to  a 
crime  that  has  aroused  the  wrath  of  the  gods. 
He  orders  the  ceremonies  to  be  postponed 
pending  the  arrival  of  a  sacred  oracle  from 
Memphis.  The  queen  and  her  attendants 
withdraw,  and  the  temple  is  vacated. 

The  orchestra  plays  through  several  pages 
of  sixty -fourth  and  thirty-second  notes,  after 
which  the  interesting  and  important  Arsaces 
enters  with  two  slaves  who  bring  a  casket. 
Arsaces  is  always  a  very  youthful  and  impos- 
sible-looking general,  in  spite  of  his  glitter- 
ing cuirass,  for  be  it  known  this  is  the  con- 
tralto role,  and,  musically  speaking,  a  very 
great  one. 

32 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

We  learn  from  his  first  recitative  that  this 
casket  contains  precious  documents  and 
relics  of  the  late  king  which  have  been 
guarded  and  concealed  by  Phradates,  the 
supposed  father  of  i\rsaces.  Phradates  has 
recently  died,  and  in  com^pliance  with  his 
request  Arsaces  brings  these  treasures  to 
the  high  priest.  We  also  learn  that  the 
young  general  is  puzzled  over  the  queen's 
summons;  and  last,  but  not  least,  we  learn 
that  he  is  in  love  wdth  the  beautiful  Princess 
Azema.  The  mere  mention  of  her  name 
starts  him  to  singing  a  rapturous  song,  bub- 
bling over  with  brilliant  roulades.  After 
presenting  his  casket  to  the  high  priest, 
Arsaces  encounters  Assur,  who  soon  makes 
it  known  that  he  also  loves  the  fair  Azema. 
This  so  maddens  Arsaces  that  he  resolves 
to  at  once  ask  Semiramis  for  the  hand  of 
the  princess.  These  rivals  cordially  hate 
each  other,  but  Rossini  inspires  them  to 
sing  the  same  melodies,  and  their  voices 
mingle  in  beautiful  harmony  of  tone  and 
rhythm. 

3  33 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

The  second  rising  of  the  curtain  reveals 
Semiramis  reclining  under  a  bower  in  her 
palace  garden.  She  is  surrounded  by  maid- 
ens and  slaves  who  sing  languid,  luxuriant 
melodies  for  her  diversion.  Rossini's  style 
is  well  suited  to  this  scene.  As  the  arias 
are  presented  one  by  one,  it  is  like  unfold- 
ing the  contents  of  an  Assyrian  treasure- 
chest  full  of  shimmering  silks  and  glittering 
jewels.  Among  this  collection  there  is  one 
gem  called  the  "Bel  Raggio,"  a  name  as 
famous  in  its  way  as  the  Koh-i-noor.  This 
musical  brilliant  belongs  to  Queen  Semir- 
amis, who  displays  its  scintillating  beauty 
with  evident  pride.  The  "  Bel  Raggio  "  is 
one  of  the  four  great  corner-stones  of  the 
bravura  singer's  repertoire,  of  which  the 
remaining  three  are:  "  Una  voce  poco  fa," 
also  by  Rossini ;  the  Dinorah  "  Shadow 
Song,"  and  Eckert's  "Echo  Song."  When 
listening  to  "  Bel  Raggio  "  one  should  never 
try  to  follow  the  words  or  even  wonder  what 
she  is  saying.  Just  listen  to  the  music. 
Those  radiant,  ravishing,  intoxicating  war- 

34 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

bles  and  runs  tell  one  plainly  enough  that 
she  is  happy,  and  this  is  sufficient. 

Semiramis  is  awaiting  Arsaces  and  the 
oracle  from  Memphis.  The  latter  is  re- 
ceived first,  and  bears  the  cheering  words, 
"  Thy  peace  shall  be  restored  with  the  re- 
turn of  Arsaces."  True  to  the  nature  of 
oracles,  this  one  has  a  double  meaning,  and 
Semiramis  construes  it  in  the  wrong  way. 
When  Arsaces  enters  there  follows  a  bevy 
of  famous  duets.  But  the  conversation  is 
quite  at  cross  purposes.  Arsaces  tells  of  a 
long-cherished  love,  which  Semiramis  thinks 
is  for  herself.  She  promises  that  all  his 
hopes  shall  be  realized,  whereupon  the  two 
wander  off  side  by  side  through  a  forest  of 
cadences,  roulades,  and  scales.  They  some- 
times become  separated,  when  the  soprano 
pauses  to  run  up  the  scale-ladder  and  pluck 
a  brilliant  high  note,  or  the  contralto  lingers 
to  pick  up  tones  that  are  rich  and  full  as 
fallen  fruit;  but  they  finally  emerge  to- 
gether, trilling  high  and  low  like  birds 
from  a  thicket. 

35 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  third  scene  represents  a  magnificent 
hall  in  the  palace.  There  are,  of  course,  a 
throne  and  other  "properties,"  but  most 
conspicuous  is  the  tomb  or  mausoleum  of 
Ninus.  For  a  second  time  the  Assyrian 
noblemen  and  people  gather  to  hear  the  ap- 
pointment of  a  new  king.  As  they  sing  a 
sweeping  march,  Semiramis  enters  more 
gorgeously  arrayed  than  ever.  She  takes 
her  place  at  the  throne,  and  with  an  imperi- 
ous gesture  commands  allegiance  to  the  king 
of  her  choice.  These  regal  phrases  contain 
such  a  prodigality  of  dazzling  colorature 
that  we  are  reminded  of  the  far-famed  hang- 
ing gardens  devised  by  this  same  extrava- 
gant queen.  In  the  matter  of  lavish  display 
the  music  of  "  Semiramide "  is  strikingly 
appropriate.  Assur,  Arsaces,  Idrenus,  and 
Oroe  vow  obedience,  and  their  hymn-like 
ensemble  is  one  of  the  grandest  themes 
Rossini  ever  composed.  Like  the  prayer 
from  Weber's  "  Freischiitz, "  this  quintet 
has  long  held  a  place  in  church  choir-books, 
and  a  more  religious  and  inspiring  melody 

36 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

could  hardly  be  imagined.  The  soprano 
scatters  delicious  appoggiaturas  and  cadenzas 
above  the  steady  and  noble  ensemble  like 
flowers  upon  an  altar.  The  "Semiramide 
Quintet  "  is  another  one  of  its  claims  to  last- 
ing fame. 

In  a  lighter  vein  is  the  queen's  next  proc- 
lamation, to  the  effect  that  the  future  king 
shall  also  be  her  husband.  This  arouses 
general  surprise.  But  when  she  finally  des- 
ignates Arsaces,  the  amazement  on  all  sides 
is  loud.  Assur  demands  justice  from  the 
queen,  insinuating  some  secret  compact  that 
she  dare  not  disregard.  He  is  haughtily 
silenced  by  Semiramis,  who  at  the  same 
time  bestows  upon  him  the  hand  of  fair 
Azema. 

Poor  Arsaces  is  beside  himself.  He  tries 
to  explain,  but  the  queen  will  listen  to  no 
remonstrances.  An  altar  is  brought  for- 
ward, and  the  priests  are  about  to  pronounce 
the  marriage  bans  when  a  hollow,  subter- 
ranean sound  and  distant  thunder  cause 
consternation.     The  people  are  horrified  to 

37 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

behold  the  tomb  of  Ninus  slowly  open  and 
its  occupant  step  forth.  Turning  to  Arsaces, 
the  ghost  bids  him  avenge  a  terrible  crime : 
"  With  courage  into  my  tomb  descend ;  there 
to  mv  ashes  a  victim  thou  shalt  offer.  But 
first  obey  the  counsel  of  the  priest."  The 
ghost  disappears,  and  the  act  closes  with  a 
strong  chorus  of  dismay.  Semirami^  leads 
the  singing,  and  for  once  her  music  has  only 
prim  quarter-notes  and  half-notes:  her  col- 
orature  is  all  frightened  away. 

The  next  act  contains  an  interview  be- 
tween Assur  and  Semiramis,  wherein  we 
learn  about  the  crime  so  often  referred  to. 
The  late  King  Ninus  was  poisoned  by  Assur, 
who  had  been  promised  the  throne.  But 
the  guilty  queen  has  since  preferred  Arsaces, 
and  this  explains  Assur' s  great  anger.  He 
threatens  to  kill  the  young  favorite;  but 
Semiramis  has  resumed  her  ostentatious 
manner  and  music,  and  will  not  heed  his 
words. 

There  follows  a  scene  in  the  queen's 
apartment.     She    is   still    striving   to   win 

38 


STARS    OF   THE    OPERA. 

Arsaces,  but  her  overtures  repel  him  more 
than  ever.  He  has  just  returned  from  an 
interview  with  the  priest.  The  contents  of 
the  casket  have  been  revealed  to  him,  and 
he  shows  Semiramis  a  paper  proving  the 
startling  fact  that  Arsaces  himself  is  her 
long-lost  son.  He  has  also  learned  that 
Ninus,  his  father,  was  murdered.  Remorse 
promptly  overtakes  the  queen.  She  weeps 
and  wails  in  chromatics  and  scales  that  quite 
touch  Arsaces.  They  sing  a  glorious  duet 
that  is  like  a  benediction,  so  noble  and  pure 
are  its  harmonies.  It  is  called  "Giorno 
d'orrore  "  (day  of  horror).  Arsaces  bids  his 
mother  adieu.  He  is  going  to  the  tomb  to 
avenge  his  father's  death,  tho  he  knows 
not  how  nor  whom  he  shall  strike.  It  rests 
with  the  gods  to  guide  him ;  he  only  obeys 
the  command.  There  follows  another 
smoothly  flowing  duet  resembling  all  the 
others  in  its  simple  structure,  unmistakable 
rhythm,  and  prominent  melody. 

The  finale  of  "  Semiramide  "  has  little  to 
commend   it,   being    absurd   in  action    and 

39 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

presenting  only  one  pleasing  or  noticeable 
theme.  This  is  a  dainty,  quaint  violin 
passage  that  delighted  us  in  the  overture, 
but  which  we  never  thought  of  connecting 
with  a  tragic  climax.  How  different  is  this 
tomb  music  from  that  of  Gounod's  *'  Romeo 
and  Juliet!  "  There  the  marvelous  harmon- 
ies are  like  sweet  dreams  accompanying  the 
sleep  of  death,  but  here  we  are  only  con- 
scious of  the  "  deep,  damp  vault,  the  dark- 
ness and  the  worm." 

The  chief  absurdity  of  this  scene  lies  in 
the  fact  that  it  should  be  too  dark  for  the 
characters  to  see  each  other  and  yet  it  must 
be  light  enough  for  the  audience  to  see 
everything.  Another  incongruity  is  the 
assembling  of  all  the  principals  and  a  good- 
sized  chorus  in  this  tomb  where  we  expect- 
ed Arsaces  alone.  But  it  is  explained  that 
Assur  heard  of  the  hero's  coming  and 
planned  to  follow  with  the  intention  of  kill- 
ing him ;  Oroe  heard  of  Assur's  plan  and 
brings  an  armed  guard  to  protect  Arsaces; 

and,    finally,    Semiramis     follows     because 

40 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

she  is  anxious  about  everybody  and  every- 
thing. 

They  enter  at  different  times;  grope 
around  among  tombs,  and  pretend  not  to 
see  each  other.  Arsaces  finally  hears  and 
recognizes  the  voice  of  Assur.  He  has  no 
doubt  that  the  gods  have  sent  Assur  to  be 
the  victim.  The  hero  promptly  stabs  in 
the  direction  of  the  voice,  but  because  it  is 
so  very  dark  he  happens  to  kill  Semiramis 
instead  of  Assur.  But  this  mistake  does 
not  much  affect  either  the  music  or  the  ac- 
tion. The  final  chorus  of  the  opera  is  as 
light  and  bright  as  the  first. 


41 


A  Call 
on 

Emma  Eames 


-3     ■      3 


>  )  )  >  > 


5   >  )  J  :> 
o   >  C)  o  o 


J  J  )  J  J 

5    3   5   3  5 


Copyright  by  Falk,  N.  Y. 


EMMA  EAMES. 


A   CALL  ON    EMMA    EAMES. 

A  CALL  at  the  Hotel  Marie  Antoinette  is 
a  veritable  eighteenth-century  dream.  A 
powdered  footman  in  satin  knee-breeches 
and  the  full  court  costume  of  that  period 
flings  open  the  great  glass  doors  as  you 
enter,  and  another  one  escorts  you  around 
some  columns,  and  through  some  curtains, 
and  down  some  steps  to  the  main  reception- 
room,  where  you  wait  while  your  name  is 
announced. 

The  Hotel  Marie  Antoinette  is  very  ex- 
clusive, so  you  happen  to  be  alone  in  this 
great  apartment,  with  its  stained-glass  dome 
and  carved-oak  walls;  alone,  excepting  for 
the  pretty  soft-voiced  maid  who  is  arrayed 
as  were  the  ladies-in-waiting  of  the  Trianon. 
She  assists  you  in  removing  your  wraps,  and 
at  the  same  time  talks  enthusiastically  about 
the  great  personage  you  have  come  to  see. 

45 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

"  We  all  here  just  love  her,  she  is  so 
gracious  and  appreciative  of  everything  we 
do,  and  so  kind  to  us.  She  gives  us  tickets 
to  the  opera,  and  she  isn't  at  all  proud  or 
haughty.  She  often  conies  in  here  of  an 
afternoon  to  have  tea.  There  is  her  corner 
where  she  always  sits  " — and  the  maid  points 
quite  reverentially  to  a  dainty  recess  cur- 
tained with  tapestries  and  dreamily  illu- 
mined by  a  huge  pendant  red  globe.  As 
your  glance  roams  on,  you  find  many  ob- 
jects that  hold  your  attention.  There  are 
historic  cabinets  of  rare  value  and  work- 
manship, little  tea-tables  beside  the  vari- 
ous couches,  bearing  trays  of  antique  china 
and  tiny  spoons  of  old  silver,  all  sought  and 
selected  from  the  castles  and  treasure-rooms 
of  Europe.  There  is  one  dainty  solid  gold 
clock  that  belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette 
and  was  used  in  her  boudoir.  Another  one 
which  she  also  owned  is  jeweled  with  tur- 
quoise and  garnets.  Many  valuable  minia- 
tures of  the  unfortunate  queen  and  her  fam- 
ily are  on  the  desks  and  writing-tables.     In 

46 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

one  enticing  alcove  are  two  rows  of  sumptu- 
ous volumes  bound  in  red  and  gold  whose 
mere  titles  set  one  to  dreaming  of  court  in- 
trigues and  palace  revels.  "The  Secret 
Memoirs  of  the  Court "  comprise  one  set  of 
ten  books ;  ten  more  are  devoted  to  Napo- 
leon, and  "The  Life  and  Times  of  Louis 
XV."  also  occupies  much  shelf -room;  while 
on  the  center-table  is  a  collection  of  engrav- 
ings portraying  the  life  of  Marie  Antoi- 
nette. 

You  quite  feel  yourself  a  court  lady  by 
this  time ;  and  when  the  powdered  dignitary 
again  appears  and  calls  out  your  name  in 
stately  tones,  you  follow  him  with  a  sense 
of  importance  quite  pleasant  and  unusual. 
You  are  led  past  more  columns  and  through 
more  curtains,  until  finally  he  leaves  you  in 
a  moderate-sized  ante-room.  Here  you  wait 
for  some  moments,  expectantly  watching 
the  doorway  by  which  you  entered,  when 
suddenly,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
some  folding-doors  which  you  had  not 
noticed   are    flung    wide   open    by   unseen 

47 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

hands,  and  behold  the  queen  of  grand 
opera,  Madame  Emma  Eames! 

It  was  indeed  a  right  royal  vision  I  be- 
held: a  beautiful  woman,  in  every  sense  of 
the  term,  clad  in  a  fawn-colored  gown  of 
rich  design,  and  be  jeweled  with  chains  of 
pearls  and  a  brooch  of  diamonds.  She  was 
seated  on  a  pale  satin  divan,  but  came  for- 
ward to  greet  her  visitor,  and  shook  hands 
cordially.  Madame  Eames  is  more  than 
beautiful,  for  together  with  regular  features 
and  soft  curves  she  has  a  strong  face  and  a 
pose  of  the  head  that  is  all  determination 
and  force.  She  is  tall  and  full-figured,  her 
hair  is  dark,  and  her  eyes  are  very  blue. 

She  displayed  a  charming  smile  as  she 
motioned  her  visitor  to  a  seat  near  by,  and 
then  followed  a  rapid  sequence  of  questions 
and  answers.  Madame  Eames  showed  a 
kindly  response  to  her  visitor's  spirit  of 
earnestness,  and  tried  to  tell  as  much  as 
possible  in  every  reply  she  made. 

First  in  order  of  interest  is  the  fact  that 

she  was  born,  August  13,  1867,  in  Shanghai, 

48 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

China.  There's  a  beginning  for  you! — 
enough  to  crush  an  ordinary  mortal.  But 
Emma  Eames  took  it  otherwise;  and  all 
who  know  of  her  now  must  admit  that  to  be 
born  under  the  star  of  the  East  on  the  thir- 
teenth day  of  the  month  is  after  all  not  bad. 
As  soon  as  she  was  old  enough  to  walk  she 
left  the  land  of  her  birth  and  came  with  her 
mother  and  father  (who  was  a  lawyer  of  the 
international  courts)  to  their  native  home, 
the  city  of  Bath,  in  Maine. 

Here  she  studied  music  w^th  her  mother, 
going  later  on  to  Boston  and  finally  to  Paris, 
where  she  worked  with  indomitable  will 
studying  operas,  dramatic  action,  voice  cul- 
ture, and  especially  French.  This  last  is 
very  important  for  those  aiming  to  sing 
publicly  in  Paris,  for  the  people  there  will 
not  tolerate  any  weakness  of  pronuncia- 
tion. 

When  asked  if  she  ever  had  time  for  any 
social  pleasures,  Madame  Eames  answered 
very  earnestly :  "  I  have  never  done  any- 
thing in  my  life  but  work.  I  cared  for 
4  49 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

other  pleasures  just  as  any  girl  does,   but 
have  always  foregone  them." 

As  a  result  of  this  ceaseless  work  she  was 
fitted  for  the  operatic  stage  in  two  years' 
time. 

"  It  was  Gounod  himself  who  selected  me 
to  sing  in  his  opera  *  Romeo  and  Juliet.' 
He  taught  me  that  music,  and  also  '  Faust. ' 
He  was  a  most  lovable  old  man,  so  modest, 
and  above  all  sincere  and  truth-loving  in  his 
music.  He  often  said  to  me,  *  Never  de- 
grade music,  the  one  divine  language  on 
earth,  to  express  a  lie.'  When  teaching  a 
phrase,  instead  of  dictating,  as  you  would 
expect  so  great  a  man  to  do,  he  always 
asked,  '  How  do  you  /rel  when  you  hear 
that?  Sing  it  as  j/ou  feel  it,  not  what  I  feel 
or  tell  you.'  And  he  could  sing  so  ex- 
quisitely! Yes,  old  as  he  was,  and  he  had 
just  the  smallest  possible  voice,  yet  it  was 
delightful  to  hear." 

Madame  Eames's  tones  were  tender  and 
thoughtful  as  she  recalled  these  reminis- 
cences of  her  beloved  master. 

50 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  number  thirteen  looms  up  again  in 
Madame  Eames's  history  as  the  date  of  her 
great  debut.  It  was  the  evening  of  March 
13,  1889,  in  the  world's  most  beautiful  opera- 
house,  that  the  swaying  pendants  of  its  great 
chandelier  vibrated  to  the  sound  of  a  new 
voice  and  the  marble  walls  of  its  ornate  halls 
reverberated  to  the  sound  of  a  new  name — 
"  Emma  Eames,  la  jeune  Americaine." 

No  wonder  she  made  a  sensation ;  she  is 
the  ideal  Juliet,  youthful,  beautiful,  and 
with  a  voice  of  golden  timbre. 

A  more  lovely  scene  and  more  tender 
tragedy  has  never  been  depicted  in  music 
than  is  the  last  act  of  this  opera.  The  be- 
holder sees  in  the  somber  setting  of  an  iron- 
barred  tomb  the  white-clad  form  of  Juliet 
lying  upon  a  bier  that  is  raised  like  an  al- 
tar above  several  steps.  There  are  loose 
flowers  still  unwithered  scattered  near  the 
silent  sleeper,  and  one  pale  torch  burns 
restlessly  in  a  brazier  at  her  head.  No 
other  movement;  no  change  on  the  stage 
for  many  minutes. 

SI 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

But  the  listeners,  in  this  pause,  are 
brought  heart  to  heart  with  the  gentle  com- 
poser, who  sleeps  himself  now  in  the  Pan- 
theon of  Paris.  Gounod  has  enwrapped 
this  scene  in  ethereal  harmonies  that  make 
one  think  of  Death  not  as  the  King  of  Ter- 
rors, but  as  the  Queen  of  Repose.  It  is  a 
lulling,  loving  strain  that  floats  and  fades 
away  like  a  final  "hush  "  to  rest. 

The  classic  purity  of  Madame  Eames's 
beauty  impresses  itself  in  these  moments 
perhaps  more  than  any  other,  and  the  nobil- 
ity of  her  voice  reveals  itself,  in  the  succeed- 
ing dramatic  clihiax  of  the  opera,  to  the 
fullest. 

In  speaking  now  of  her  debut,  the  singer 
says  that  she  was  very  nervous,  "  for,  before 
the  public  has  approved,  you  don't  feel  sure 
that  3^ou  know  anything.  After  this,  there 
is  some  foundation  for  your  nerves  to  rest 
on,  altho  you  realize  how  much  there  is  still 
to  learn.  But  I  am  always  nervous  even 
yet,  never  knowing  what  trick  my  nerves 
may  play  on  me.     No,  my  memory  gives  me 

52 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

no  anxiety,  for  I  fortunately  have  a  very 
reliable  one.  If  by  any  chance  I  forget  a 
word  on  the  stage,  I  know  my  health  is  run 
down,  and  I  then  at  once  take  a  rest  for 
several  days." 

But  Emma  Eames  does  not  take  many 
such  rests.  Young  as  she  is,  she  has  al- 
ready sung  in  twenty-one  different  operas 
with  unvarying  success,  in  England,  France, 
and  Italy  as  well  as  her  own  country.  When 
studying  a  new  role  she  makes  every  effort 
to  be  accurate  in  all  details. 

"  I  always  give  great  thought  to  my 
costumes,  but  when  once  I  have  studied 
thoroughly  into  the  period  represented  and 
feel  convinced  that  my  designs  are  correct, 
I  never  change  them.  When  one  set  is 
shabby  I  merely  have  it  duplicated." 

Little  wonder  a  prima  donna  has  no  time 
for  social  gayety  when  you  consider  all  the 
accessories  to  her  art.  Aside  from  the  study 
and  actual  performing,  she  must  take  proper 
exercise  for  her  health,  must  attend  re- 
hearsals, give  time  to  the  costumer — and, 

53 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

also,  to  the  many  interviewers.  Madame 
Eames  smiled  at  this  suggestion,  and  said: 

"I  don't  mind  any  of  these,  but  I  do 
dread  having  my  photograph  taken.  We 
have  to  put  on  the  entire  costumes  of  differ- 
ent operas:  wigs,  stockings,  gloves,  slippers 
— everything  as  tho  ready  to  go  on  with  our 
lines,  and  all  just  to  stand  around  in  a  studio 
and  pose.  It  is  terrible;  it  takes  a  whole 
day  sometimes." 

There  is  one  studio,  however,  of  a  differ- 
ent kind,  in  which  Madame  Eames  does  not 
object  to  pose,  and  this  is  the  studio  of  her 
husband,  Julian  Story,  who  is  a  famous 
artist.  Here  she  has  been  made  the  sub- 
ject of  various  beautiful  paintings,  some  of 
which  are  on  exhibition  in  different  galler- 
ies, and  some  few  are  retained  in  her  own 
Paris  home.  Mr.  Story  is  the  son  of  W. 
W.  Story,  America's  most  distinguished 
sculptor-poet,  and  this  marriage  of  art  and 
music  is  so  ideal  as  to  be  continually  com_- 
mented  upon.  Madame  Eames  is  no  less 
proud  of  her  husband  than  he  is  of  his  gifted 

54 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

wife.  He  always  travels  with  her  during 
the  season,  but  between  times  they  hasten 
to  one  or  the  other  of  their  homes ;  a  modest 
term  for  one  of  these,  which  is  no  less  than 
a  castle  of  medieval  design  recently  com- 
pleted in  the  suburbs  of  Florence,  Italy.  I 
was  shown  a  description  of  this  edifice  which 
reads  like  a  page  of  old  history.  The  sullen 
gray  stone  walls  are  six  feet  thick,  and  the 
heavy  doors  with  their  great  iron  hinges  are 
all  carved  by  hand,  as  indeed  is  all  the 
workmanship  on  the  place.  The  main  hall 
of  the  castle  is  sixty  feet  long  and  twenty- 
five  feet  wide.  There  are  four  massive  fire- 
places in  this  one  apartment,  and  a  wooden 
balcony  reached  by  a  broad  stairway  runs 
all  around  the  second  story  of  the  hall. 
The  ceiling  is  of  carved  oak,  and  a  repro- 
duction of  a  famous  one  in  Florence.  Every- 
thing is  in  accord  with  the  traditions  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  Madame  Eames  takes  great 
delight  in  this  castle,  and  she  has  with  her 
numerous  photographs  of  it. 

There  will  probably  be  many  guests  in 

55 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

those  halls ;  but  even  if  the  gifted  owners 
lived  there  alone  it  would  always  seem  peo- 
pled by  a  large  assemblage,  for  Madame 
Eames  studies  much  during  these  vacations, 
and  the  mystic  characters  of  her  repertoire 
may  be  said  to  hover  ever  near.  The  castle 
is  to  be  furnished  with  rich  hangings  and 
historic  trophies;  but  most  priceless  of  all 
should  be  counted  the  music  furnished  by 
her  own  rare  voice.  This  will  soar  out  and 
reecho  at  all  hours ;  sometimes  a  memory  of 
Elsa,  and  again  a  thought  of  Sieglinde. 

It  were  indeed  a  pity  to  fling  the  stray 
tones  of  a  great  voice  upon  crude  walls  and 
cramped  quarters;  let  them  rather  resound 
and  reverberate,  and  perchance  be  pre- 
served, by  the  listening  atoms  of  carved 
wood  and  chiseled  stone. 

If  the  earth  is  God's  garden  and  we  are 
the  plants  that  grow,  then  Madame  Eames 
must  be  likened  to  a  rare  orchid,  radiant  in 
the  sunshine  of  great  success,  and  showered 
with  all  possible  blessings. 


S6 


"  Faust 


55 


"FAUST." 

Faust  is  the  opera  in  which  Madame 
Eames  has  appeared  most  often  in  this 
country.  No  less  than  sixteen  composers 
have  used  Goethe's  poem  as  a  libretto. 
Many  of  these  works  are  excellent,  and  fre- 
quently we  hear  excerpts  from  them  in  our 
concerts.  But  Gounod  has  clad  the  words 
in  musical  raiment  of  such  surpassing  love- 
liness that  he  has  almost  robbed  Goethe  of 
his  masterpiece.  At  this  day,  on  hearing 
the  name  Faust  we  think  of  the  opera 
simultaneously  with,  if  not  before,  the 
poem.  He  has  made  of  it  a  "  grand  opera  " 
in  every  sense;  and  yet  so  abounding  in 
melody  that  even  an  untrained  ear  is  cap- 
tured. 

There  is  no  overture.  It  is  a  fact  without 
a  cause  that  some  operas  have  overtures 
and  some  have  not.      "  Faust  "  opens  with  a 

59 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

short  orchestral  prelude  that  is  somber  and 
subdued — quite  suggestive  of  the  doubt  and 
darkness  that  characterize  the  scene  upon 
which  the  curtain  rises. 

Faust,  the  philosopher,  the  student,  is 
seated  in  his  cell,  surrounded  by  books, 
parchments,  chemicals,  skulls,  and  hour- 
glasses. He  has  grown  old  in  his  delving 
after  the  mysteries,  and  even  now  he  has 
devoted  the  whole  night  to  study.  The 
lamp  burns  low,  and  all  about  him  is  dark 
and  gloomy.  He  closes  his  book  sadly,  and 
exclaims  in  tones  that  seem  spontaneous, 
but  are,  nevertheless,  in  accurate  rhythm 
with  the  orchestra,  "  In  vain !  "  He  does 
not  find  the  knowledge  he  seeks;  his  in- 
vestigations are  without  avail.  It  seems 
strange  to  hear  these  laments  sounded  by  a 
tenor  voice ;  but  this  trifling  incongruity  of 
high  tones  and  old  age  does  not  last  long. 
The  character  Faust  is  one  of  the  greatest 
tenor  roles. 

His  soliloquy  is  presently  broken  in  upon 

by  a  chorus  behind   the  scenes.     It  is  the 

60 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

song  of  reapers  going  to  their  daily  work. 
The  morning  light  streams  in  at  the  window 
which  Faust  throws  open  as  he  listens.  But 
sunshine  itself  is  not  brighter  than  that  song. 
It  is  so  joyous  and  light-hearted  that  the 
listener  fairly  inhales  the  dew-laden  air  of 
the  fields.  This  first  melody  in  the  opera  is 
as  perfect  a  morceau  for  its  size  as  was  ever 
written.  The  solitaire  in  his  cell  is  also 
affected  by  the  radiant  song,  and  he  envies 
the  reapers  for  their  contentment  and  for 
their  youth.  Yes,  youth  is  what  he  longs  for. 
Altho  Faust  has  declared  his  study  to 
be  "in  vain,"  he  has,  nevertheless,  acquired 
the  accomplishment  of  being  able  to  call  up 
Mephistopheles  (this  is  the  operatic  name 
for  the  great  demon) ,  and  in  his  present  de- 
spair he  resorts  to  this  method.  Mephisto 
appears  without  delay.  Flaming  colors  and 
a  bass  voice  are  the  essential  attributes  of 
this  great  character.  It  seems  rather  hard 
on  our  artists  who  sing  to  low  G  that  a  bass 
voice  is  so  often  chosen  to  represent  iniquity ; 

but  such  happens  to  be  the  case.     Mephisto 

6i 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

is  invariably  clad  in  red  from  head  to  toe ; 
exaggerated  eyebrows  and  a  fantastic  cap 
with  unobtrusive  horns  complete  his  dia- 
bolical appearance. 

In  a  continuous  flow  of  harmony,  Faust 
informs  his  visitor  of  his  wants,  and  Mephisto 
promptly  states  his  conditions:  for  the 
price  of  his  soul  after  death  the  philosopher 
shall  now  be  granted  his  youth.  Faust 
hesitates  at  this,  whereupon  the  wily  demon 
causes  him  to  behold  a  vision.  A  bright 
light  at  the  back  of  the  stage  suddenly 
reveals  the  lovely  Marguerite  at  her  spin- 
ning-wheel. While  the  picture  lasts  there 
is  heard  in  the  orchestra  a  suggestion  of  one 
of  the  themes  that  come  afterward  in  the 
love-scene  of  the  opera ;  this  is  accompanied 
by  a  soft  tremolo  on  the  violins.  Forest 
scenes,  moonlight,  and  dreams  are  very  often 
represented  in  music  by  a  violin  tremolo. 
When  the  vision  passes  away,  Faust  is  de- 
cided, and  he  drinks  the  potion  Mephistoph- 
eles    prescribes.      Presto!     The    gray    hair 

and  beard  disappear ;  the  long  robe  falls  off, 

62 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

and  Faust  is  a  young  man — tall  and  hand- 
some, as  a  tenor  should  be.  He  comes  for- 
ward with  an  elastic  step  and  sings  of  youth 
and  its  joys,  which  now  are  his.  The  music 
has  undergone  a  metamorphosis  like  the 
singer.  It  throbs  with  a  life  and  vigor 
which  were  lacking  before ;  and  this  final 
song  of  the  first  act  is  one  of  the  best  tenor 
solos  in  the  opera. 

The  second  act  is  chiefly  remarkable  for 
its  choruses.  It  is  called  the  Kyrmess,  and 
represents  a  street  thronged  with  villagers 
in  festive  array  and  mood.  They  dance  and 
sing  in  honor  of  their  soldiers,  who  start 
this  day  to  war.  The  opening  chorus  is 
divided  among  the  students,  girls,  soldiers, 
and  citizens,  the  latter  being  represented 
by  old  men,  who  come  forward  and  sing 
their  delightful  refrain  in  thin,  piping 
voices.  Every  phrase  of  this  first  chorus  is 
a  surprise,  and  each  one  seems  more  fasci- 
nating than  the  preceding.  It  is  all  in  a 
rapid,  tripping  tempo,  and  fairly  bubbles 
over  with  good  humor. 

63 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

In  this  act  we  are  introduced  to  all  the 
principal  characters.  Siebel,  the  village 
youth  who  loves  Marguerite,  is  already  on 
the  scene,  and  very  soon  her  soldier-brother, 
Valentine,  appears.  This  is  the  baritone 
role,  and,  while  not  a  long  one,  is  still  im- 
portant, and  requires  a  great  artist,  for  he 
has  a  splendid  death-scene  in  the  fourth  act. 
His  first  solo  begins  with  the  words  "  O 
santa  medaglia !  "  ("O  blessed  medallion!  "). 
He  sings  to  the  token  which  his  sister  has 
just  given  him  at  parting.  He  is  depressed 
at  the  thought  of  leaving  Marguerite  alone, 
for  she  is  an  orphan ;  but  Siebel  consoles 
him  with  promises  to  protect  and  watch  over 
her. 

Mephisto  is  the  next  one  to  come  upon 
the  scene,  and,  in  spite  of  his  satanic  make- 
up, the  villagers  do  not  recognize  his  "  name 
and  station."  He  joins  in  their  merryma- 
king, and  soon  astounds  them  with  his  wizard 
tricks  and  actions.  He  sings  a  song  about 
"  Gold — the  lord  of  the  earth."     It  is  one  of 

the  three  important  solos  of  this  role,  and  is  a 

64 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

Melba  as  Marguerite  in  "  Faust 


c  c  c 
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c      e 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

most  characteristic  piece.  One  has  not  the 
least  doubt  that  he  learned  it  at  home !  Such 
eccentric,  sardonic  intervals  and  rhythm  at 
once  suggest  an  unholy  origin. 

The  peasants  soon  become  so  convinced 
of  this  stranger's  evil  power  that  they 
unanimously  hold  up  the  hilts  of  their 
swords,  which  are  formed  like  a  cross,  and 
before  this  emblem  Mephisto  trembles.  A 
very  strong  and  inspiring  chorus  accom- 
panies this  move  on  the  part  of  the  peasants. 

Faust,  the  handsome  cavalier,  now  comes 
forward.  After  a  short  dialog  between 
this  master  and  servant — who  we  know  are 
under  compact  to  change  places  in  the  here- 
after— the  chorus  again  take  possession  of 
the  stage.  They  sing  first  a  charming 
waltz  song,  which  of  itself  seems  to  start 
them  all  to  dancing.  And  then  comes  the 
celebrated  "  Faust  Waltz,"  during  which  the 
listener  should  pay  most  attention  to  the 
orchestra,  There  is  some  singing  and  much 
dancing  on  the  stage,  but  the  instruments 
have  the  most  important  part.  Of  this 
S  6s 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

well-known  composition  it  is  unnecessary  to 
say  more  than  it  is  a  splendid  waltz. 

Its  brilliant  rhythm  is  temporarily  di- 
verted by  the  entrance  of  Marguerite,  who 
is  on  her  way  home  from  church.  She  car- 
ries a  prayer-book  in  her  hand,  and  is  dressed 
in  white,  which  betokens  innocence.  This 
costume  of  the  heroine  has  been  considered 
as  imperative  as  the  make-up  of  Mephisto ; 
but  Madame  Eames  carefully  studied  old 
Nuremburg  pictures  and  resurrected  the 
correct  style  of  that  period,  which  some- 
what departs  from  operatic  tradition. 

On  seeing  Marguerite,  Faust  addresses 
her  as  "My  charming  lady,"  and  begs  per- 
mission to  walk  home  with  her.  To  which 
Marguerite  very  properly  replies  that  she 
is  neither  "  charming  "  nor  a  "  lady, "  and  can 
go  home  "alone."  The  question  and  re- 
sponse last  only  a  moment,  but  the  two 
themes  are  most  exquisitely  adapted  to  the 
words,  and  should  be  noted,  as  they  recur 
later  on  in  the  opera.     Especially  lovely  are 

these  first  notes  of  the  soprano ;  and  after 

66 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

so  much  chorus  and  bass  and  orchestra,  they 
soar  out  like  strokes  from  a  silver  bell. 

Marguerite  goes  on  her  homeward  way, 
and  leaves  Faust  more  in  love  than  before. 
Mephisto  rejoices,  and  the  waltz  is  resumed. 
Thus  ends  Act  II. 

And  now  for  the  Garden  Scene — a  veri- 
table bouquet  of  melodies,  flowers  that  never 
fade!  The  first  aria  is,  indeed,  called  the 
"Flower  Song,"  but  only  because  Siebel 
sings  to  the  flowers  he  has  brought  for 
Marguerite.  Siebel  is  the  contralto  role, 
and  therefore  always  taken  by  a  woman. 
It  is  a  very  short  part,  but  as  two  of  the 
sweetest  songs  in  the  opera  belong  to  Siebel, 
great  artists  are  glad  to  take  the  character. 
The  short  prelude  by  the  orchestra  before 
the  "  Flower  Song "  is  as  artistic  as  any 
other  part.  It  seems  to  smooth  the  brow 
and  quiet  the  mind,  and  coax  the  hearer 
into  just  the  right  mood  **  to  be  lulled  by 
sounds  of  sweetest  melody."  Siebel's  song 
is  indeed  "sweetest  melody  "^ — so  much  so 

that  a  poor  singer  can  hardly  spoil  it.     That 

67 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

gentle    and   caressing   theme    captures   tlie 
heart  every  time. 

After  Siebel  has  gone,  there  enter  Faust 
and  Mephistopheles  (who  gains  admission 
everywhere).  The  latter  is  in  high  spirits, 
and  Faust  is  in  love.  They  look  upon  the 
garden  with  different  emotions.  Faust 
rhapsodizes  and  is  lost  in  romance;  but 
Mephisto's  more  practical  vision  perceives 
the  flowers  which  Siebel  has  left  at  Mar- 
guerite's door.  He  goes  off  at  once  to  pro- 
cure a  present  that  shall  outshine  these. 
During  his  absence  Faust  sings  the  "  Salve 
Dimore."  These"  are  the  first  words  of  the 
song,  which  mean  "  Hail !  dwelling  pure 
and  simple ;  "  but  this  composition  is  always 
given  its  Italian  name.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  the  names  by  which  celebrated  arias 
are  known.  Some  are  designated  by  the 
subject,  as  the  "Jewel  Song,"  "Flower 
Song."  Then,  again,  some  are  known  by 
the  rhythm,  as  the  "  Waltz  Song "  from 
"Romeo  and  Juliet,"  or  the  "  Polacca  from 

'  Mignon.'  "     Then,  there  are  others  whose 

68 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

names  only  indicate  the  number  of  voices, 
as  the  "Sextet  from  'Lucia,'"  the  "Quar- 
tet from  '  Rigoletto  ' ;  "  while  many  are* 
spoken  of  by  their  Italian  names.  The 
"Salve  Dimore"  belongs  to  this  class,  and, 
like  the  "Jewel  Song,"  is  so  celebrated  that 
many  people  who  have  not  heard  the  music 
are  still  familiar  with  the  name.  The  tenor 
who  does  not  receive  abundant  applause 
after  this  aria  may  feel  that  he  has  lost  his 
best  chance  in  the  opera. 

After  the  solo  Mephisto  reenters  with  a 
jewel-casket  under  his  arm.  He  places  this 
where  Marguerite  will  surely  find  it,  and 
then  the  two  retire.  Now  is  an  expectant 
moment,  for  the  soprano  holds  the  stage 
alone  for  some  time,  and  has  in  this  scene 
her  finest  solos.  She  comes  in  through  the 
garden  gate  and  walks  very  slowly,  for  she 
is  thinking  about  the  handsome  stranger 
who  spoke  to  her  in  the  street.  She  tries, 
however,  to  forget  the  occurrence,  and  reso- 
lutely sits  down  to  her  spinning.     As  she 

spins  she  sings  a  ballad  called  "  The  King 

69 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

of  Thule."  It  is  a  sad  little  song,  with 
strange  minor  intervals  that  make  one  feel 
"teary  'round  the  heart."  Marguerite  in- 
terrupts her  ballad  to  soliloquize  again,  in 
pretty  recitative  tones,  about  that  "  fine 
stranger,"  but  she  soon  recalls  herself  and 
resumes  the  song.  At  last  she  gives  up 
trying  to  spin,  and  starts  for  the  house; 
whereupon  she  sees  Siebel's  flowers,  which 
are  admired,  but  dropped  in  amazement 
when  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  jewel-box. 
After  some  misgivings  she  opens  it  and 
discovers  jewels  so  beautiful  that  from  sheer 
joy  and  delight  she  starts  to  trilling  like  a 
bird.  This  trill  is  the  opening  of  the  great 
aria,  which  seems  to  thus  poise  for  a  moment 
and  then  fly  away  in  the  ascending  scale 
which  commences  the  brilliant  theme.  The 
"  Jewel  Song  "  is  as  difficult  as  it  is  beautiful, 
and  the  artist  who  renders  it  well  deserves 
unstinted  praise. 

Before   the  song   is  ended,   Martha,   the 
matron  in  whose  care  Marguerite  has  been 

entrusted,  comes  into  the  garden,  and  soon 

70 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

is  followed  by  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 
Hers  is  a  necessary  but  unimportant  char- 
acter, as  she  has  no  solo  and  is  merely  a  foil 
for  Mephistopheles.  She  is  represented  as 
a  very  susceptible  widow,  and  he  takes  upon 
himself  the  uninviting  task  of  making  love 
to  her  in  order  that  Faust  and  Marguerite 
may  have  a  chance.  The  two  couples  walk 
back  and  forth  in  the  garden,  which  is  sup- 
posed to  extend  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
stage.  The  courting  as  done  by  Mephis- 
topheles is  highly  absurd,  and  is,  in  fact,  the 
only  touch  of  humor  in  the  opera. 

But  very  different  are  the  scenes  between 
Faust  and  Marguerite.  Every  phrase  is  full 
of  charming  sincerity.  But  it  is  after  the 
quartet,  after  the  second  exit  and  reappear- 
ance, that  we  hear  their  great  love  duet. 
The  evening  shadows  have  lengthened,  and 
"  Tardi  si  fa  "  ("  It  groweth  late  ")  are  the 
first  words  of  this  superb  composition,  which 
is  indeed  like  pure  gold.  It  stands  alone 
in  musical  literature  as  the  ideal  love 
music.     The  only  work  that  is  ever  com- 

71 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

pared  to  it  is  Wagner's  duet  in  the  "  Wal- 
kiire."  Some  writer  has  ventured  the  state- 
ment that  in  this  "  Faust "  duo  Gounod  has 
"actually  discovered  the  intervals  of  the 
scale  which  express  the  love  passion."  The 
idea  is  not  a  wild  one  nor  a  new  one,  for  it 
is  known  that  the  Greeks  held  a  similar  be- 
lief, and  even  prohibited  certain  harmonies 
and  intervals  as  being  too  sensuous.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  there  is  a  subtle  charm  about 
Gounod's  music  that  eludes  description. 
When  we  hear  that  final  ecstatic  leap  from 
C  sharp  to  high  A,  a  very  hush  and  spell 
come  over  us. 

There  is  little  more  after  the  duo.  Mar- 
guerite rushes  into  the  house,  and  Faust  is 
aroused  by  the  unwelcome  voice  of  Mephis- 
topheles.  The  latter's  jesting  tone  is  most 
irritating  to  the  lover.  But  this  dialog  is 
soon  interrupted  by  one  of  the  loveliest 
scenes  in  the  opera.  Marguerite  throws 
open  the  blinds  of  her  window  and  looks 
into  the  garden,  which  she  believes  is  now 

vacant.     The  moonlight  falls  upon  her,  and 

72 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

she  suddenly  begins  singing.  It  is  a  burst 
of  melody  as  spontaneous  and  free  as  the 
song  of  a  nightingale.  The  song  is  not  long, 
and  soon  the  curtain  descends;  but  the 
picture  leaves  a  lasting  impression. 

Act  IV.  comprises  three  scenes.  The 
first  one  is  short,  and  depicts  Marguerite's 
grief  and  remorse.  Faust  has  forsaken 
her,  and  the  faithful  Siebel  tries  to  comfort 
and  console.  This  second  solo  of  Siebel's 
is  a  melody  of  noble  simplicity.  The  beau- 
tiful cadence  given  to  the  twice-repeated 
name,  "  Marguerita, "  reveals  a  heart  full  of 
unselfish  love. 

The  next  scene  represents  a  street  in 
front  of  Marguerite's  house.  There  is  gen- 
eral excitement  and  anticipation  among  the 
villagers,  for  to  day  the  soldiers  return  from 
war.  They  presently  enter,  amid  much  re- 
joicing, and  sing  their  great  chorus,  called 
the  "Faust  March."  This  march  is  so 
popular  and  well  known  that  people  who 
believe  they  have  never  heard  a  note  of  the 
opera  will  be  surprised  to   find  that  they 

73 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

recognize  this  march.  It  is  played  by  every 
military  band  in  the  country.  After  the 
chorus  the  soldiers  disperse  to  their  homes 
and  friends.  Valentine  is  greeted  by  Siebel, 
but  the  brother  inquires  about  his  sister, 
and  hastens  into  the  house. 

The  stage  now  is  darkened,  for  the  hour 
is  late.  Presently  Faust  and  Mephisto  ap- 
pear. The  latter  has  brought  his  guitar, 
and  he  assumes  the  privilege  of  singing 
a  serenade  to  Marguerite,  while  Faust  stands 
to  one  side  in  melancholy  meditation.  Me- 
phisto's  song  is  more  insulting  than  com- 
plimentary. As  a  musical  expression  of 
irony,  sarcasm,  and  insolence,  this  com- 
position is  certainly  a  success.  The  last 
three  notes  of  the  first  phrase  are  a  veri- 
table leer.  This  is  the  second  important 
bass  solo,  and,  when  well  given,  is  highly 
effective,  as  it  admits  of  great  variety  of 
expression.  But  instead  of  bringing  forth 
the  object  of  the  serenade,  Marguerite's 
brother  appears  at  the  door,  and  with  drawn 
sword.     He  seeks  out  Faust  and  challenges 

74 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

him  to  a  duel.  The  challenge  is  accepted, 
and  they  are  soon  fighting ;  but  the  result 
is  inevitable,  for  Mephisto  uses  his  demoniac 
power  to  protect  Faust,  and  so  Valentine  is 
wounded.  The  noise  of  the  scuffle  has 
aroused  the  villagers,  who  hurry  in  with 
lanterns  and  find  Valentine  dying.  Mar- 
guerite rushes  forward  and  falls  on  her 
knees  beside  him,  but  Valentine  motions 
her  away.  He  rises  up  in  his  death  agony 
and  curses  her  in  tones  that  are  like  balls  of 
fire.  The  villagers  look  on  with  awe,  while 
poor  Marguerite  is  stunned  by  these  terrible 
words  from  her  dying  brother.  It  is  the 
most  tragic  moment  of  the  opera.  When 
Valentine  expires,  every  one  kneels  as  they 
sing  a  solemn  prayer,  and  the  curtain  falls. 
We  have  next  the  Church  Scene,  whose 
sublime  music  displays  Gounod's  special 
forte.  He  is  perhaps  greater  as  a  com- 
poser of  ecclesiastical  music  than  anything 
else.  His  genius  finds  most  congenial  soil 
in  religious  themes,  and  therefore  is  this 
church  scene  with  its  mighty  choruses  and 

75 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

organ  interludes  truly  grand.  We  hear  the 
organ  tones  even  before  the  curtain  rises, 
and  when  it  does  Marguerite  is  discovered 
kneeling  on  a  prayer-chair,  apart  from  the 
other  worshipers.  She  tries  to  pray  and 
find  comfort  in  her  despair,  but  an  awful 
voice  mocks  her  endeavors,  and  that  voice  is 
Mephistopheles,  who  comes  to  her  now  in 
his  true  character.  He  is  near  her,  but  she 
can  not  see  him,  while  he  terrifies  and  tor- 
tures her  with  fearful  prophecies.  Vainly 
and  desperately  she  strives  to  follow  the 
familiar  service,  but  she  can  hear  only  the 
demon's  voice.  It  draws  ever  nearer,  and 
its  words  increase  her  terror.  At  last  with 
a  cry  of  anguish  Marguerite  falls  down  un- 
conscious. Mephistopheles  stands  over  her, 
and  his  face  beams  with  satanic  glee. 

True  to  Goethe's  story,  Marguerite  be- 
comes insane  from  grief  and  kills  her  child. 
The  last  act  finds  her  in  prison.  Once  again 
she  is  clad  in  white.  Her  hair  hangs  loose 
upon  her  shoulders,   and  chains   bind   her 

wrists.     She  is   sleeping  on   a  straw  pallet 

76 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

as  the  curtain  rises,  and  Faust  enters  with 
his  companion.  They  have  come  to  release 
the  prisoner.  But  when  she  is  aroused  and 
urged  to  flee  she  pays  little  heed  to  their 
request,  for  she  does  not  recognize  them. 
But  the  sound  of  Faust's  voice  recalls  to  her 
that  first  meeting  so  long  ago,  when  he  said, 
"  My  fair  lady,  may  I  walk  with  you  ?  "  She 
sings  again  the  charming  phrase  as  we  heard 
it  in  the  second  act ;  but  it  is  now  rendered 
with  a  certain  pathos  and  simplicity  that 
bring  tears  to  our  eyes. 

She  presently  perceives  Mephistopheles, 
and  the  sight  fills  her  with  terror.  She  falls 
on  her  knees  and  invokes  the  angels  of 
heaven  to  pardon  and  receive  her  soul. 
The  fervor  of  this  prayer  knows  no  bounds. 
A  veritable  religious  ecstasy  throbs  through 
the  music.  The  theme  is  broad  and  free, 
and  seems  to  burst  asunder  every  bond.  It 
suggests  a  glory  and  splendor  that  are  celes- 
tial. Ever  higher  and  grander  it  grows. 
Marguerite  is  now  standing  with  upraised 
arms;    and  altho   Faust  and  Mephisto  join 

77 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

in  the  singing,  our  attention  is  entire- 
ly riveted  by  that  white-robed  supplicant. 
The  peerless  theme  is  repeated  three  times, 
and  always  higher  than  before.  Those 
soprano  tones  finally  reach  an  atmosphere 
so  clear  and  rare  that  they  seem  to  carry 
the  soul  of  Marguerite  with  them.  The 
last  high  B  soars  up  to  heaven  like  a  disem- 
bodied spirit. 

It  matters  not  what  occurs  after  this.  We 
have  a  dim  consciousness  of  Marguerite  fall- 
ing down,  of  some  words  of  lament  from 
Faust ;  but  for  us  the  opera  was  ended  with 
that  last  supernal  note. 


78 


''Werther" 


''WERTHER.'* 

Madame  Eames  is  the  only  prima  donna 
whom  America  has  heard  in  "  Werther" — a 
work  which  in  Paris  ranks  as  Massenet's 
best.  But  she  does  not  sing  it  often,  be- 
cause, as  she  says,  "  It  all  lies  in  such  a 
low  tone ;  and  to  sing  always  in  one  place 
is  hard  on  the  voice. "  Then  she  adds,  "  But 
the  love-music  of  Werther  is  beautiful." 

Goethe's  love-stories  find  favor  with 
French  composers.  Massenet  has  accom- 
plished with  "  Werther  "  what  his  predeces- 
sors have  done  with  "  Mignon  "  and  "  Faust. " 
His  work  is  very  recent  and  altogether 
unique.  The  story  is  not  dramatic,  and 
there  are  no  regulation  operatic  characters, 
— ^no  gods,  no  kings,  no  peasants,  gypsies, 
fairies,  demons,  villains,  slaves,  soldiers, 
and  not  even  a  chorus.  The  scenery  is  also 
unconventional;  not  a  palace,  nor  a  moun- 
tain, nor  a  dungeon  in  the  whole  play. 
6  8i 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  dramatis  personce  of  "  Werther  "  are 
taken  from  "ye  lower  middle  classes,"  and 
they  are  graced  with  such  names  as  Schmidt, 
Johann,  Sophia,  and  Katie.  We  find  it 
agreeable  and  gratifying  to  see  our  own 
common  selves  and  everyday  emotions  ele- 
vated to  the  regions  of  classic  music. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  why  Massenet 
was  attracted  by  the  story,  in  spite  of  its 
dramatic  weakness  and  lack  of  stage  effects. 
It  offers  unbounded  opportunities  for  love- 
music.  Most  opera  composers  must  content 
themselves  with  one  rousing  duet  and  per- 
haps a  solo  or  two;  but  in  this  story  the 
hero  sings  of  love  from  first  to  last. 

The  prelude  to  this  homely  opera  is  like  the 
blessing  before  a  meal.  It  is  peaceful  and 
soothing,  and  might  be  called  a  pastorale. 

As  the  curtain  rises  we  are  greeted  with 
the  chatter  and  laughter  of  childish  voices : 
two  innovations  at  one  stroke,  for  real  chil- 
dren and  real  laughter  have  never  before 
held   a   place   in   grand   opera.     This  first 

scene  of  "  Werther  "  forms  a  pleasing  sum- 

82 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

mer  picture.  We  see  the  garden  and  terrace 
of  a  simple  country  house,  whose  owner, 
the  town  bailiff,  is  seated  upon  the  veranda 
surrounded  by  his  six  children,  to  whom  he 
is  teaching"  a  Christmas  carol.  He  seems 
to  be  teaching  them,  but  in  point  of  fact 
he  is  teaching  the  audience  this  charming 
melody,  which  must  be  kept  in  mind,  for  it 
recurs  at  various  intervals  during  the  opera. 
So  the  children  sing  at  first  very  loud  and 
badly.  The  good-natured  bailiff  shakes  his 
head  and  stops  his  ears.  After  a  second 
attempt  the  song  goes  smoothly,  and  during 
this  performance  Schmidt  and  Johann  enter 
the  garden.  These  are  some  tavern  friends 
of  the  bailiff,  who  lend  variety  to  the  music 
by  giving  occasion  for  the  inevitable  drink- 
ing-song. They  compliment  the  children 
and  inquire  after  Charlotte.  "  She  is  dress- 
ing for  a  ball,"  answers  Sophia,  the  bailiff's 
second  daughter. 

We  might  tire  of  this  plain  conversation 
and  the  buffoon  manners  of  Schmidt  and 
Johann,  but  the  accompanying  music  is  of 

83 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

absorbing  interest.  Massenet  makes  mucb 
use  of  counterpoint,  which  has  been  broadly 
defined  as  the  art  of  combining  melodies. 
A  crude  but  familiar  example  is  that  wonder- 
inspiring  piano  performance  of  "Yankee 
Doodle  "  in  one  hand  with  "  Fisher's  Horn- 
pipe "  in  the  other.  It  is  interesting  to  fol- 
low the  various  themes  in  Massenet's  or- 
chestra. Sometimes  a  bit  of  the  Christmas 
carol  combines  with  the  gruff,  reeling  song 
of  Bacchus,  which,  in  turn,  is  blended  with 
a  broad  and  noble  theme  that  always  appears 
in  connection  with  the  name  of  Charlotte. 
Another  theme,  that  might  be  characterized 
as  severely  intellectual,  asserts  itself  when- 
ever the  conversation  turns  upon  Albert, 
her  absent  fiance. 

Schmidt  and  Johann  go  off  arm  in  arm, 
lustily  singing,  "Vivat  Bacchus." 

Sophia  enters  the  house,  while  the  bailiff 

retires  with  the   children  to  an  alcove  on 

the   veranda,  where  we   see  him  patiently 

rehearsing   that  Christmas   carol,  word  for 

word. 

84 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  music  now  undergoes  a  transition, 
like  a  dreamer  turning  in  his  sleep.  There 
are  harp-chords,  arpeggios,  and  trills  written 
soft  and  "dim." 

A  richly  clad  traveler  enters  the  garden, 
looking  about  him  with  evident  emotion. 
It  is  Werther,  returned  after  years  of  ab- 
sence to  his  native  village. 

"  I  know  not  if  I  dream  or  wake,"  are  his 
first  words,  while  the  instruments  recall 
that  pastoral  motif  of  the  prelude.  Birds 
and  trees  and  the  limpid  brook  are  all  apos- 
trophized in  word  and  tone,  until,  with  a 
sunburst  of  rising  chords,  there  is  intro- 
duced a  new  and  radiant  theme,  eulogizing — 

"All  nature,  full  of  grace, 
Queen  over  time  and  space  ;" 

while  under  the  spell  of  his  emotions — for 
Werther  is  a  poet  and  a  dreamer — there 
comes  to  him,  like  the  song  of  angels,  that 
blessed  Christmas  carol  which  the  children 
are  singing  softly  and  with  perfect  rhythm. 
The  already  familiar  Charlotte-theme  an- 
nounces the  heroine's  entrance.     The  girl- 

85 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

ish  costumes  of  this  bourgeoise  character 
are  •unusually  becoming  to  Madame  Eames ; 
they  present  her  in  quite  a  new  light,  and 
her  first  entrance  gives  a  pleasing  surprise 
to  the  audience. 

She  is  embraced  by  the  children,  who  love 
Charlotte  dearly,  for  she  is  to  them  both 
a  sister  and  a  mother.  Regardless  of  her 
best  gown,  she  now  goes  to  a  buffet  on  the 
veranda  and  distributes  slices  of  bread  and 
butter.  This  scene  has  prompted  the  epi- 
thet, "  bread-and-butter  opera.  " 

In  the  mean  time  Werther  is  welcomed 
by  the  bailiff  and  introduced  to  Charlotte. 
Sounds  of  gay  music  accompany  the  arrival 
of  guests  who  will  take  Charlotte  to  the  ball. 
This  festive  music  is  unique.  The  bass 
presents  a  defiant  repetition  of  one  chord 
that  is  stubbornly  out  of  harmony  with  the 
bright  melody  above,  like  old  age  shaking 
his  head  at  youthful  gaiety. 

It  is  decided  that  Werther  shall  go  along 

to  the  ball.     The  dance-theme  is  resumed, 

and  the  merry  party  go  out.     Sophia  takes 

86 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

the  children  into  the  house,  and  the  bailiff 
goes  off  to  the  tavern,  humming  on  the  way 
that  comical  drinking-song. 

The  stage  grows  darker,  the  music  softer, 
and  we  hear  a  fragment  of  the  Albert-theme. 
It  is  like  seeing  the  shadow  before  the 
person,  for  Albert  soon  enters.  He  has  re- 
turned unexpectedl3^  Sophia  rushes  out  to 
greet  him,  and  she  regrets  that  Charlotte  is 
absent. 

Before  going  into  the  house  Albert  sings 
to  the  night  winds  of  his  love,  and  hopes 
that  Charlotte  on  entering  the  garden  will 
discover  the  thoughts  that  he  leaves. 

The  orchestra  toys  with  this  melody  for  a 
time,  but  then  is  diverted  by  memories  of 
the  ball  music.  Snatches  of  the  bewitching 
strain  flit  by  in  dift^erent  keys,  like  belated 
guests  in  vari-colored  dominoes.  They  are 
faint  as  phantoms — a  gentle  swaying  of  the 
violins,  a  touch  of  the  harp,  and  then  they 
vanish.  There  is  a  pause.  The  moon  has 
appeared,  and  the  humble  garden  seems 
transformed  into  a  fairy  bower. 

87 


STARS  OF   THE   OPERA. 

Like  the  spirit  of  a  dream  is  the  melody 
now  arising.  Ethereal  in  its  beauty  but 
supreme  in  power,  it  rules  over  the  entire 
opera.  This  is  the  love-theme.  We  are 
not  surprised  to  see  Werther  and  Charlotte 
enter  arm  in  arm.  It  is  a  familiar  situation : 
he  is  "seeing  her  home"  from  the  ball. 
And  arrived  at  their  destination,  they  linger 
at  the  gate  as  couples  have  done  before  and 
since. 

Charlotte  is  of  a  serious  nature,  and  their 
talk  is  never  light.  She  tells  of  her  mother 
and  the  terrible  experience  of  losing  one  so 
dear.  "  I  believe  that  she  watches  over  me 
and  knows  when  I  do  her  bidding."  Char- 
lotte's tones  are  full  of  pathos,  and  she 
becomes  abstracted  in  her  memories,  while 
Werther,  enraptured  by  her  goodness  and 
beauty,  gives  utterance  to  the  feelings  that 
enthrall  him.  The  music  grows  stronger 
and  higher,  until  it  breaks  forth  in  a  re- 
sounding reality  of  the  love-theme.  Over 
an  accompaniment  of  throbbing  chords  this 

superb   melody   sweeps    by   like   a   meteor 

88 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

passing  the  earth ;  and  during  this  luminous 
transition  we  hear  the  voice  of  Werther, 
"Charlotte,  I  love  thee!"  There  follows  a 
hush,  and  then  a  chilling,  awful  discord. 
Some  one  is  calling  from  the  house,  "  Albert 
has  come  home !  "  Charlotte  staggers  at  this 
news.  She  explains  that  Albert  is  her  be- 
trothed— it  was  her  mother's  wish.  "  May 
she  forgive  me,  that  for  one  moment  at  your 
side  I  forgot  my  vow."  Charlotte  goes  up 
the  steps ;  she  turns  once,  but  then  hastens 
inside.  Werther  buries  his  face  in  anguish 
at  the  thought  of  her  w^edding  another. 

Several  months  have  elapsed  since  the 
events  of  the  first  act.  The  elm-tree  foliage 
is  denser  and  the  situations  of  the  drama 
have  changed,  but  love  and  music  remain 
the  same. 

Schmidt  and  Johann  are  discovered  sitting 

before  the  tavern  "of  a  Sunday  afternoon." 

Their  good-natured  song  of  Bacchus  greets 

us   like   an    old    friend.      The   church   and 

parsonage  are  in  plain  view,  and  a  solemn 

choral  from  within  alternates  with  the  drink- 
So 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

ing-song  without.  The  village  is  to-day  en 
fete  in  honor  of  the  pastor's  golden  wedding. 

The  serious  and  thoughtful  Albert-theme 
marks  the  entrance  of  Charlotte  and  Albert, 
who  are  married.  They  loiter  on  their  way 
to  church  and  sit  down  on  a  bench  under 
the  trees.  Very  calm  and  tender  is  the 
music  of  this  little  scene  between  husband 
and  wife.  The  organ  resounds  the  chords 
of  a  beautiful  hymn,  at  which  summons 
Charlotte  and  Albert  join  the  other  wor- 
shipers. 

Werther  has  been  observing  the  pair  from 
a  distance.  When  they  are  gone  he  comes 
forward,  exclaiming  with  grief  and  bitter- 
ness, "Wedded  to  another!"  The  tem- 
pestuous chords  of  the  orchestra  clash  into 
the  holy  harmonies  of  the  organ.  Jagged 
fragments  of  Werther's  first  song  of  ad- 
miration depict  his  shattered  joy.  As  one 
holds  together  the  pieces  of  a  broken  vase, 
sadly  recalling  its  lost  loveliness,  so  does 
the  orchestra  again  build  up  that  old  theme 

in  all   its  beauty  while  Werther  sings  of 

90 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

what  might  have  been.  Rebellious  at  fate, 
he  cries  out :  "  It  is  I — I  alone  whom  she 
could  have  loved !  "  The  succeeding  aria  is 
reckless  as  a  steed  galloping  to  his  death. 
It  plunges  from  high  tones  to  a  sob,  and  the 
singer,  flinging  himself  upon  a  bench,  buries 
his  face  in  his  arms. 

Albert  discovers  Werther  thus  despon- 
dent, and,  suspecting  the  cause,  he  questions 
him ;  but  Werther  desperately  disclaims  his 
love  for  Charlotte.  This  interview  is  musi- 
cally serious  and  sad.  But  suddenly  the  or- 
chestra gives  us  a  new  key,  a  new  melody,  a 
sprinkling  of  lithesome  staccatos  falling  like 
a  shower  of  apple-blossoms.  With  a  smile 
on  her  lips  and  flowers  in  her  hands, 
Sophia  enters,  unconscious  of  the  surround- 
ing turbulent  emotions.  She  gaily  an- 
nounces that  they  intend  to  dance,  and 
that  Werther  must  join  her  in  the  minuet. 
Observing  his  somber  expression,  she  bids 
him  cheer  up,  for  to-day — 

"All  the  world  is  gay  ! 
Joy  is  in  the  air  !  " 

91 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

This  song  is  the  most  popular  one  of  the 
opera.  It  is  bright  and  light,  and  full  of 
fluttering  phrases  —  a  veritable  song  of 
spring. 

When  Albert  and  Sophia  are  gone, 
Werther  cries  out  with  explosive  candor, 
"  I  told  a  falsehood !  "  He  is  wretched  be- 
yond compare.  He  can  not  cease  loving, 
and  he  dare  not  cease  lying. 

Charlotte  comes  from  the  church,  and, 
greeting  him  kindly,  asks  if  he,  too,  is  go- 
ing to  the  parsonage.  They  speak  lightly 
but  feel  deeply,  as  is  evidenced  by  the 
music.  That  wondrous  love-theme  softly 
surrounds  them  like  the  magic  fire  of  the 
Walkiire.  The  harmonies  mount  up  from 
the  instruments  like  flames  from  living 
embers.  A  spell  is  upon  them.  Charlotte 
stands  mute,  while  Werther  sings  of  that 
evening  when  he  touched  her  hand  and 
looked  into  her  eyes  for  the  first  time. 
Softly  and  slowly  the  beautiful  melody  dis- 
appears, giving  place  to  a  different  chord 

and  motif :     "  Albert   loves  me — and  I  am 

92 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

«  his  wife !  "  Charlotte  has  recovered  herself. 
She  entreats  Werther  to  turn  his  heart  else- 
where: "Why  do  you  love  me?"  This 
hero  seems  to  understand  himself,  for  he 
answers :  "  Ask  a  madman  why  he  has 
lost  his  reason !  "  Then  Charlotte  urges 
him  to  go  away  for  a  time,  say  until  Christ- 
mas. "Yes,  until  Christmas — good-by,  my 
friend!  "  She  leaves  before  he  has  time  to 
refuse. 

Now  follows  a  musical  adaptation  of 
Goethe's  very  poetical  and  ingenious  plea 
for  suicide. 

"Do  we  ofiEend  Heaven  in  ceasing  to  suffer?  When  a 
son  returns  from  his  journey  before  the  expected  time, 
far  from  feeling  resentment,  the  father  hastens  to  greet 
him;  and  can  it  be  that  our  heavenly  Father  is  less 
clement? " 

During  this  soliloquy  we  encounter  strange 
chords  in  the  orchestra.  Strains  of  a  gay 
minuet  play  upon  these  tragic  tones  like 
rainbow  colors  on  the  angles  of  a  glacier. 

The  dance  has  begun,  and  Sophia,  ap- 
pearing at  the  parsonage  door,  tells  Werther 
that  she  is  waiting.      He  walks  away. 

93 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

"You  are  leaving!  But  you  will  come 
back?  "  cries  the  disappointed  Sophia. 

"No — never!  Good-by!"  and  Werther 
turns  down  the  road  out  of  sight.  Either 
for  the  lost  dance  or  the  lost  partner,  Sophia 
bursts  into  tears.  Albert  and  Charlotte  find 
her  thus,  and  between  sobs  she  tells  them 
how  Monsieur  Werther  has  gone  a^vay  for- 
ever. Charlotte  stands  rigid,  while  Albert 
exclaims  to  himself:  "He  loves  my  wife!  " 
The  gay  assem.blage  within  the  parsonage 
has  no  knowledge  of  this  brewing  tragedy, 
so  the  minuet  continues  till  the  curtain 
descends. 

The  prelude  to  i\.ct  HI  is  somber  and  de- 
pressing. It  clings  to  the  harmonies  of  that 
last  scene  between  Charlotte  and  Werther — • 
the  exile  motif. 

The  curtain's  rising  reveals  Charlotte  sit- 
ting at  her  work-table,  lost  in  thought  while 
her  needle  plies. 

The  soft  light  of  the  lamp  illumines  a  petit 
salon  ;  the  hour  hand  of  the  clock  points  to 
the  fiofure  five,  and  the  libretto  tells  us  it 

94 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

is  the  24th  of  December.  The  subject  of 
her  thoughts  is  Werther — always  Werther! 
Why  can  she  not  banish  him  from  her  mind 
as  she  did  from  her  presence?  The  ques- 
tion is  not  hard  to  answer,  for  we  learn  that 
he  has  been  writing  to  her.  As  tho  drawn 
by  a  magnet,  Charlotte  goes  to  the  desk 
and  reads  again  the  letters  she  fain  would 
forget.  Moaning  minors  like  awdnter  wind 
accom.pany  the  perusal  of  these  sad  and 
poetic  epistles.  Werther  whites:  "If  I 
never  return,  blame  me  not,  but  weep  in- 
stead, for  I  shall  be  dead." 

Terrifying  tremolos  accompany  the  tragic 
theme  that  is  now  let  loose  in  the  orchestra 
like  a  strange,  wild  animal  in  the  arena.  It 
preys  upon  the  emotions,  gnawing  at  the 
heart  of  every  listener.  Massenet  delights 
in  startling  contrasts. 

While  Charlotte  is  grieving  over  these 
missives,  a  happy  voice  greets  her,  "  Good 
day,  sweet  sister!  "  It  is  Sophia,  come  wath 
an  armful  of  toys  and  a  heart  full  of  melody. 
She  is  accompanied  by  the  gay  staccatos  of 

95 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

her  "Spring  Song."  Charlotte  hastily  con- 
ceals the  letters ;  but  tears  are  not  so  easily 
disposed  of.  Perceiving  the  reddened  eyes, 
Sophia  tries  to  cheer  her  sister  by  singing  of 
"Laughter,  the  light  of  the  heart."  The 
gaiety  of  this  music,  with  its  sparkling  scales 
and  tripping  tempo,  is  infectious.  But  tears 
again  gather  in  Charlotte's  eyes  when  Sophia 
mentions  the  name  of  Werther.  The  little 
sister  is  very  sorry ;  but  Charlotte  says  never 
mind,  weeping  does  one  good.  "  The  tears 
we  do  7iot  shed  fall  back  upon  the  heart, 
which,  altho  it  is  big,  is  very  frail  and  can 
break  with  the  weight  of  a  tear." 

The  music  to  this  sentiment  is  a  tone- 
poem  well  worthy  of  the  text.  It  is  written 
in  a  low  key.  Joy  mounts  upward  on  the 
scale,  but  grief  weighs  down. 

Sophia  goes  out,  and  all  the  bright  music 
with  her.  Falling  upon  her  knees,  Charlotte 
prays  for  strength.  This  supplication  is 
truly  grand,  with  superb  crescendos  and 
plaintive  diminuendos. 

The  music  now  svv^ells  out  with   sudden 

96 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

impetus  and  the  parlor  door  is  brusquely 
opened.  Charlotte  turns  around  and  ex- 
claims with  startled  tones,  "  Werther!  " 

He  is  leaning  against  the  door  as  tho 
wearied  in  mind  and  body.  "  I  tried  not  to 
come — 7nais  ine  void  !  " 

With  forced  calm  Charlotte  bids  him  wel- 
come. He  looks  with  fond  memory  upon 
the  old  piano  and  familiar  books.  They 
talk  of  casual  things,  and  incidentally  Char- 
lotte calls  his  attention  to  the  poems  he  was 
translating  when  he  left. 

The  music  of  this  scene  has  been  unnatu- 
rally tranquil ;  the  gentle  Charlotte-theme 
and  another  phrase,  graceful  and  simple  as 
a  nursery  rhyme,  are  used  with  touching 
effect.  But  with  the  mention  of  these 
poems  sudden  emotion  breaks  through  the 
constraint.  Werther  turns  to  the  unfinished 
verse  and  reads  aloud. 

The  ensuing  scene  is  dramatically  not  a 

new  one.     In  "  Francesca  da  Rimini "  the 

heroine  is  wooed  and  won  by  the  reading  of 

a  poem ;  but  added  to  the  charm  of  verse  we 

7  97 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

here  have  the  enthralling  power  of  music.    In 
both  instances  the  reading  ends  with — a  kiss. 

The  succeeding  aria  is  a  song  of  soaring 
ecstasy  about  ^^  ce  premier  baiser.''  Werther 
proclaims  that  "  only  love  is  real !  "  But 
Charlotte  suddenly  recoils  at  her  weakness, 
and  rushing  to  a  side  door,  exclaims :  "  We 
must  never  meet  again  !  Good-by — for  the 
last  time!"  and  disappears. 

The  music  has  assumed  a  dolorous  strain 
that  vividly  portrays  the  pathos  of  her  last 
words.  Werther  calls  for  her  to  come  back. 
He  knocks  at  the  door,  but  is  only  answered 
by  the  tragic  chords  of  the  orchestra.  They 
are  furious  and  fearful,  but,  strange  to  say, 
they  adequately  express  an  awful  silence. 
''So  be  it!"  at  last  exclaims  the  sorrowful 
Werther.  Crashing  chords  whirl  riot  in  the 
orchestra  as  the  hero  hastens  away. 

The  stage  is  vacated,  but  the  music  tells  us 
whom  next  to  expect.  The  Albert-theme, 
easily  recognizable  tho  a  trifle  harsher  than 
before,  comes  forward  to  preside  over  the 
finale  of  this  act. 

98 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Albert  steps  into  the  room,  surprised  and 
preoccupied.  He  has  met  the  distracted 
Werther  at  the  front  door,  and  here  finds 
Charlotte  locked  in  her  room.  In  answer 
to  his  authoritative  call  she  comes  forward 
looking  pale  and  frightened.  He  questions 
her,  but  she  answers  evasively.  At  this 
moment  a  message  is  handed  to  Albert  by 
a  servant.  It  is  from  Werther:  "  I  go  on  a 
long  journey.  Kindly  lend  me  your  pistols. 
Farewell."  Charlotte  knows  the  import  of 
these  words,  but  dare  not  speak.  Perhaps 
Albert  also  knows.  He  coldly  bids  her 
hand  the  weapons  to  the  servant.  Mutely 
and  slowly  she  goes  to  the  case  and  delivers 
the  contents  as  she  was  bid.  That  them.e 
in  the  orchestra  continues  quietly  to  move 
back  and  forth  like  a  person  keeping  the 
death-watch.  When  the  servant  has  gone. 
Albert  strides  angrily  out  of  the  room. 
Charlotte  stands  for  a  moment  immobile. 
The  music  also  seems  to  stand  still ;  then  a 
sudden  impetuous  outburst  of  the  instru- 
ments coincides  with  her  decision.     From 

99 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

highest  B  to  lowest  F  octaves  and  chords 
are  hurled  together,  as  Charlotte,  seizing  a 
mantle,  rushes  to  the  door.  "  Pray  Heaven 
I  may  not  be  too  late  1  " 

We  follow  Charlotte  in  her  flight.  The 
scene  changes  to  a  view  of  the  village.  It 
is  Christmas  eve,  nearing  midnight.  The 
snow  is  falling  in  wild  gusts,  but  through 
a  rift  in  the  clouds  the  moon  looks  down 
upon  the  peaceful  town.  Roofs  and  trees 
are  covered  with  snow,  while  from  some  of 
the  windows  household  lights  are  gleaming. 
The  church,  too,  is  lighted,  but  the  moon- 
light and  the  snow  are  most  prominent. 
Even  these  however  are  not  so  important  as 
the  music.  More  chilling  than  hail  or  snow 
are  those  sudden  blasts  of  chords  and  octaves 
falling  one  on  top  of  the  other,  down,  down 
until  they  join  and  melt  into  the  steady 
tremolo  of  the  bass.  Finally,  like  Death 
seated  on  a  tombstone,  the  terrifying  tragic 
theme  again  looms  up. 

During  this  introduction  the  winter  scene 
on  the  stage  remains  the  same.     The  snow 

lOO 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

,  ,    >      ,   .  .  -, 

■>:>■>  >      >  >  ) 

'        ,    ">  0   '     ">  ">      '  1    "> 

continues  to  fall,  and  we  hear 'it 'in  the 
orchestra — a  steady  movement  of  double 
thirds  over  which  play  varying  melodies  like 
Christmas  lights.  The  musicians  turn  their 
leaves  once,  twice,  three  times,  but  still  that 
slowly  palpitating  accompaniment  goes  on. 
There  is  something  appalling  in  this  per- 
sistency. What  was  at  first  delightful  be- 
comes oppressive,  for  we  are  »somehow 
reminded  that  falling  snow  can  bury  the 
living  and  hide  the  dead. 

A  distant  bell  sounds  the  hour  of  twelve. 
Fierce  winds  arise,  and  we  see  the  muffled 
figure  of  a  woman  struggling  her  way 
against  the  gale.  The  tempest  is  again 
heard  in  the  orchestra.  Breathlessly  we 
watch  the  heroine's  slow  progress,  and 
wonder  if  she  will  be  too  late. 

The  scene  changes  to  a  little  room  strewn 
with  books  and  papers.  A  lamp  on  the 
wooden  table  casts  sickly  rays  upon  the  sur- 
roundings, but  we  can  plainly  see  a  figure 
reclining  on  a  chair  near  the  open  window. 
It  is  Werther,  pale  and  unconscious.     Char- 

lOI 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

lotte  rushes  in,  and  at  sight  of  the  dying 
man  is  beside  herself  with  grief.  She  calls 
him  by  name,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice 
revives  him.  He  asks  her  faintly  to  stay 
near  him,  to  pardon  him  and  love  him. 
While  he  speaks  there  arises  from  the 
orchestra,  like  the  dim  visions  of  a  dying 
man,  that  first  love-theme  so  full  of  summer 
gladness.  Charlotte  sings  to  him  the  words 
he  has  longed  to  hear.  This  last  love-song 
ends  in  a  whisper.  The  instruments,  too, 
seem  hushed  with  that  mysterious  silence 
of  Christmas  night.  We  can  see  through 
the  window  the  bright  moonlight,  for  the 
storm  has  abated. 

Suddenly   the    dying   man    looks   up   as 
sweet  music  greets  his  ear — 

"Noel!  Noel!  Noel! 
Proclaim  the  wondrous  birth  ! 
Christ  the  Lord  has  come  to  earth !  " 

It  is  the  happy  children's  voices  singing 
their  Christmas  song  in  the  church.  A 
merry  carillon  of  the   instruments  accom- 

I02 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

panics  the  familiar  tones  of  Sophia's  high, 
bright  voice  in  the  distance — 

"  All  the  world  is  gay  ! 
Joy  is  in  the  air !  " 

This  startling  contrast  of  life  and  death 
has  never  been  more  beautifully  portrayed. 
Werther  sadly  smiles,  murmuring  that  it 
is  his  song  of  deliverance.  He  dies  in 
Charlotte's  arms.  She  cries  out,  despairing, 
inconsolable,  "  It  is  finished !  "  Death  is  in 
the  orchestra,  in  the  darkness,  in  the  ensu- 
ing silence.  But  suddenly,  like  "  the  morn- 
ing  in   the   bright   light,"    those    far-away 


voices  again  smg- 


"Noel!  Noel!  Noel!" 


103 


Calve 

and  "Carmen" 


^    3     )     )   5 


»■>•>->    y 


J     3     )     )    )  3     ,    J 

■)  3  3    J 

'     )     )    J    3 


3   > 


EMMA  CALVE. 


CALVfi   AND    "CARMEN." 

"  Hear  Calve  in  '  Carmen  ' — and  die,"  is 
the  motto  which  heralded  this  singer's  first 
visit  to  America.  Onr  curiosity  was  greatly 
aroused,  for  we  thought  we  knew  all  about 
"Carmen."  We  clung  to  the  traditions  of 
our  own  Minnie  Hauk  who  had  created  the 
role,  and  could  imagine  nothing  better  than 
a  trim,  dainty  Carmen  with  high-heeled 
slippers,  short  skirts,  and  a  Spanish  mantilla. 

Great  was  our  amazement  on  that  memor- 
able night  in  1894  when  we  beheld  for  the 
first  time  a  real  cigarette  girl  of  modern 
Spain.  Here  was  a  daring  innovation  that 
at  once  aroused  attention  and  new  interest 
in  the  opera.  This  Carmen  wore  high- 
heeled  slippers,  'tis  true,  but  somewhat  worn 
down  and  scuffed,  as  they  must  be  if  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  running  over  the  cobble- 
stones of  Seville  as  she  ran  to  the  footlights 


107 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

on  her  first  entrance.  And  her  skirts,  far 
from  being  ^ /ell-setting  and  so  short  as  to 
reveal  shapely  ankles  and  a  suspicion  of 
lace  petticoats,  were  of  that  sloppy,  half- 
short  length,  which  even  the  street  girls  of 
London  wear  to-day.  But  most  astounding 
of  all  departures  was  the  absence  of  any  sign 
of  a  mantilla !  How  could  one  be  Spanish 
without  a  mantilla — any  more  than  one 
could  be  Russian  without  fur !  But  this  Car- 
men had  an  eye  to  color — she  could  hardly 
otherwise  be  a  coquette — and  in  her  hair  at 
the  nape  of  her  neck  was  deftly  tucked  a 
large  crimson  flower.  Her  hair,  however, 
was  carelessly  pinned,  and  even  tumbled 
quite  down  later  on — a  stroke  of  realism 
which  was  added  to  by  the  wa}^  she  coiled 
it  up  and  jabbed  it  into  place  again.  A 
strange  performance  to  behold  in  a  grand 
opera  setting ;  and  we  might  have  resented 
such  defiance  of  the  code  had  we  not  been 
forced  to  admit  that  it  was  all  absolutely 
correct,  and   this   Carmen   was   more   truly 

Spanish    than    any    impersonation    we   had 

1 08 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

seen.  Even  her  voice  seemed  tropical ;  such 
richness  of  tone,  warmth,  and  color  had 
never  before  been  combined  in  the  singing 
of  Bizet's  opera.  Had  Bizet  only  lived  to 
this  day  he  might  have  died  happily,  for 
Carmen,  the  child  of  his  brain,  found  no 
favor  with  the  public  when  first  intro- 
duced. 

After  the  surprise  of  Madame  Calve 's 
costume  and  then  of  her  voice,  New  York- 
ers awoke  to  the  fact  that  Carmen  had 
never  before  been  acted.  This  performance 
was  a  revelation,  a  character  study  of  a 
creature  who  recklessly  holds  that  it  is  right 
to  get  all  the  pleasure  you  can,  and  wrong 
not  to  have  what  you  want.  Madame 
Calve's  Carmen,  needless  to  say,  became  the 
talk  of  the  towm  and  the  fad  of  the  day. 
She  had  scarcely  any  chance  to  appear  in 
other  roles;  but  since  her  first  season  we 
have  been  shown  that  her  dramatic  talent  is 
many-sided.  Even  in  Faust,  the  very 
Ancient  of  Days  among  operas,  so  rigid  are 

its  traditions,  she  imparts  original  touches 

109 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

that  give  high  light  to  its  effects  and  new 
color  to  the  masterpiece.  A  very  stroke  of 
genius  is  the  dropping  of  Marguerite's 
prayer-book  in  the  excitement  of  her  first 
meeting  with  Faust,  so  symbolical  is  it  of 
his  effect  on  her  life.  This  is  more  than 
realism — it  is  poetry.  Again  in  the  spin- 
ning-song she  creates  an  exquisite  effect  by 
disentangling  a  knot  in  the  thread  on  her 
wheel  and  at  the  same  time  slowing  up  with 
her  song  and  diminishing  it  until  the  wheel 
turns  again  and  she  resumes  the  tempo. 

She  also  sings  Ophelia  in  Hamlet  with 
many  new  ideas  and  startling  voice  and 
breath  effects.  Throughout  all  the  mad 
music  she  calls  into  use  an  "  eerie  tone " 
that  is  fearful  in  its  pathos  and  terror. 

Madame  Calve  is  unique  in  her  art  and 
isolated  in  her  life.  She  is  a  Theosophist, 
and  regulates  much  of  her  art  by  the  pre- 
cepts of  this  philosophy.  Her  own  life 
seems  so  enchanted  that  she  may  well  think 
the  stars  have  shaped  it.  Born  and  raised 
in  a  village  of  Southern   France,  the  peas- 

I  lO 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

ants  there  can  hardly  realize  to  this  day  that 
the  lady  of  wealth  and  fame  who  now  owns 
a  neighboring  estate  is  one  who  grew  up 
among  them.  Her  name  was  originally 
Emma  Roquer,  but  when  she  became  wedded 
to  her  art  it  was  changed  to  Calve. 

Her  manner  and  personality  are  well  por- 
trayed in  a  recent  article  by  Harry  Steele 
Morrison,  from  which  we  quote: 

"  When  she  had  finished  her  last  number 
on  the  program,  the  mad  scene  from  *  Ham- 
let,'  the  audience  rose  as  one  man  and 
cheered  the  great  actress  and  songstress  for 
several  minutes  without  ceasing,  and  I  lost 
no  time  in  hastening  behind  the  scenes  to 
see  if  I  could  not  secure  an  introduction. 
The  great  Ophelia  stood  in  the  center  of  the 
stage  still  clad  in  her  burial  robes  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  flowers  which  she  had  torn 
to  pieces  in  her  madness.  Her  friends  were 
gathered  about  her,  congratulating  her  upon 
her  triumph.  When  the  crowd  about  the 
singer  had  gone  away  and  I  was  introduced, 

I   found  her  charming.      Her  sincerity   of 

III 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

manner,  her  childish  simplicity  of  bearing-, 
made  an  impression  which  was  most  favor- 
able. And  her  first  remark  was  typical  of 
the  woman.  'You  don't  know  how  I've  en- 
joyed this  evening.  It  brings  back  to  me 
the  nights  at  the  Opera  Comique.  It  is 
almost  like  France,  and  I  am  so  thankful  to 
all  the  people  for  their  kindness. 

"  '  You  Americans  are  so  good, '  she  said, 
turning  to  me,  while  Signor  Campanari 
translated  her  French.  '  I  was  so  afraid 
the  evening  would  be  a  failure,  but  I  couldn't 
have  desired  a  greater  success  than  it  has 
proven  to  be.  I  am  too  hasty,  I  fear,  and 
too  apt  to  borrow  trouble.  Do  you  know,' 
she  said,  turning  to  the  signor,  '  I  actually 
stormed  before  the  performance,  because  I 
thought  there  would  not  be  a  good  house. 
And  now,  of  course,  I'm  ashamed  of  my- 
self. They  don't  always  understand  me 
here.  In  France  they  know  my  moods  and 
pardon  all  my  eccentricities.  They  are  so 
kind  to  me  there.  In  Cevennes  they  wouldn't 
mind  if  I  stormed  about  for  a  week  at  a  time. 

112 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  good  people  would  probably  think  all 
the  more  of  me.'  " 

Cevennes  is  the  village  where  she  was 
born.  Her  voice  was  first  discovered  and 
trained  in  the  convent  school,  where,  as  is 
the  custom  in  France,  she  was  placed  at  an 
early  age.  We  quote  again  from  Mr.  Mor- 
rison's article: 

"Among  her  other  studies  was  that  of 
music,  and  it  was  noticed  by  the  nuns  that 
she  took  greater  interest  in  this  than  in  any 
other.     Her   tuneful    '  Ave    Marias '    were 
soon    the   wonder  and    admiration    of    the 
entire  school,  and  it  was  a  recognized  fact 
that    Emma    Roquer   had   the    finest   voice 
which  had  ever  been  heard  in  the  convent. 
She  was  called  upon  to  sing  solos  whenever 
there  was  a  visitor  of  importance,  and  was 
allowed  to  give  much  time  to  her  music. 
*  Of  course  I  had  no  idea  of  ever  singing  in 
opera  at  this  time, '  said  Madame  Calve  in 
speaking  of  the  school.     '  The  nuns  would 
have  severely  punished  me  if  they  had  sus- 
pected   any    such    intention    on   my   part. 
8  113 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

They  allowed  me  to  learn  a  few  operatic 
airs,  however,  and  of  course  I  practised  all 
the  sacred  oratorios  obtainable.' 

"The  young  girl's  term  at  school  was 
hardly  finished  when  she  was  shocked  with 
the  news  of  her  father's  death,  and  Calve 
found  her  mother  left  with  a  large  family  to 
support.  The  noble-hearted  girl  was  never 
in  doubt  about  what  course  she  should 
pursue.  *  It  was  my  plain  duty  to  make 
something  of  my  musical  talent, '  she  said, 
'  and  I  set  to  work  to  fit  myself  for  opera. ' 

"  The  training  at  the  convent  was  now  a 
great  help  to  the  young  aspirant  for  operatic 
laurels.  Her  education  was  excellent  in 
certain  ways,  and  the  chief  task  remaining 
was  for  her  to  learn  a  repertoire  of  operatic 
roles.  Money  was  secured  for  her  to  com- 
plete her  studies  in  Paris,  and  then,  after 
many  months  of  hard  work,  there  came  an 
opportunity  for  her  to  make  her  debut  in 
Brussels." 

Her  success  was  immediate  and  perma- 
nent, both  financially  and  artistically.     She 

114 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

» 

is  young  yet  and  unmarried,  but  has  made 
money  enough  to  buy  a  beautiful  chateau, 
and  to  be  largely  charitable.  Her  generos- 
ity is  praised  by  all  who  know  her. 

Imaginative,  intense,  and  impulsive,  and 
possessed  of  musical  and  dramatic  powers 
which  seem  almost  unaccountable,  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  Madame  Calve  finds 
some  fascination  in  the  mysteries  of  occult- 
ism, and  has  become  persuaded  of  her  own 
preexistence.  It  may  be — on  the  stage  she 
is  so  lost  in  her  part  that  she  believes  her 
old  self  is  revived — that  she  once  was 
Ophelia  in  the  palace  of  Denmark  and 
Prince  Hamlet  was  her  betrothed. 

At  the  time  being  it  would  hardly  be  diffi- 
cult to  persuade  the  whole  audience  to  harbor 
this  bit  of  fancy,  for  so  genuine  is  her  grief 
and  so  tender  her  song  that  it  indeed  seems 
like  a  voice  from  the  past.  In  the  future, 
at  any  rate,  Madame  Calve  intends  to  be 
identified  with  this  character,  for  she  is  now 
having  her  tomb  erected  in  Paris,  with 
Ophelia  sculptured  upon  it  life  size. 

"5 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  one  so  beau- 
tiful, brilliant,  and  successful  still  gives  time 
to  much  serious  thought  of  death  and  the 
hereafter. 


ii6 


"Carmen" 


"CARMEN." 

Every  one  likes  "  Carmen."  Its  popular- 
ity has  been  ascribed  to  the  fact  that  "  the 
action  explains  itself  to  the  eye."  One 
might  also  add  that  the  music  explains  itself 
to  the  ear,  for  the  themes  are  all  unfurled 
and  displayed  like  so  many  banners.  In 
choosing  Merimee's  novel  for  a  libretto, 
Bizet  recognized  the  growing  demand  for 
dramatic  plots  with  rapid  action — a  demand 
which  has  since  evolved  such  one-hour 
tragedies  as  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana  "  and  "I 
Pagliacci. ' '  Aside  from  the  stirring  romance 
and  fascinating  music,  "Carmen"  also  pre- 
sents very  delightful  stage-pictures.  The 
suburbs  of  Seville  form  an  interesting  set- 
ting, and  the  characters  all  require  brilliant 
costumes.  A  bull-fighter,  two  smugglers, 
three  gypsies,   cigarette  girls,  and  soldiers 

— not  a  plain  individual  among  them ! 

119 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Before  meeting  these  unusual  personages 
we  are  presented  with  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion from  Bizet,  which,  because  it  is  written 
in  musical  notation,  the  orchestra  kindly 
interprets  to  us.  We  herein  learn  that  these 
people  take  their  pleasures,  loves,  and  hates 
at  a  breakneck  pace.  There  is  a  feverish 
excitement  about  the  whole  prelude ;  but  at 
the  end  we  hear  a  tragic  minor  motif  of 
passion  and  pain  that  sends  a  chill  to  the 
heart.  It  is  the  Carmen-theme — Carmen 
herself. 

A  gay  plaza  in  Seville  is  the  first  scene  of 
action.  At  one  side  is  the  guard-house, 
near  which  are  a  number  of  soldiers  who 
minofle  and  converse  with  the  other  strollers 
and  promenaders.  A  gossiping,  good- 
natured  chorus  about  the  square  and  the 
people  is  the  opening  number.  This  pleas- 
ing melody,  in  spite  of  its  simplicity,  has 
strange  intervals  and  a  restless  tempo  that 
are  thoroughly  Spanish.  A  young  peasant 
girl  soon  enters,  rather  timidly.  It  is 
Michaela,  the  high  soprano  role,  which  be- 

I20 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

cause  of  its  two  fine  arias  is  often  taken  by 
a  great  artist,  altho  the  part  is  a  subordi- 
nate one.  It  has  frequently  been  sung  by 
Madame  Eames.  Michaela  inquires  for  a 
brigadier  called  Don  Jose.  An  officer 
politely  informs  her  that  Don  Jose  belongs 
to  the  next  guard,  which  will  soon  arrive. 
With  a  musical  phrase  of  dainty  and  con- 
descending gallantry  he  invites  her  to  tarry 
with  them.  Michaela  declines  the  invita- 
tion, and  uses  the  same  musical  setting  for 
her  own  words.  With  the  announcement 
that  she  will  return  after  a  while  she  es- 
capes from  their  entreaties.  The  chorus  is 
resumed,  and  the  walking  and  talking  go  on 
as  before.  Soon  the  fifes  and  drums  of  the 
relief  guard  are  heard  in  the  distance.  The 
soldiers  in  front  shoulder  arms  and  stand  in 
file  as  the  approaching  company  appears, 
followed  by  a  lot  of  street  gamins  who  keep 
step  and  sing  to  the  music.  This  is  so  lively 
and  inspiriting  that  we  would  march  and  sing 
too  if  we  dared.  There  is  a  satisfying  quan- 
tity of  this  "  ta-ta-ta-ra  "  music.   After  march- 

12  I 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ing  to  the  foreground  the  new  guards  change 
place  with  the  old,  who  are  then  led  away 
with  the  same  contingent  of  music  and  street 
boys.  The  soldiers  and  people  at  last  dis- 
perse, leaving  Don  Jos^  and  a  superior  offi- 
cer, Zuniga,  conversing  together.  The  lat- 
ter points  to  a  large  building,  which  he  says 
is  the  cigarette  factory,  where  are  employed 
many  pretty  girls.  Don  Jose  professes  to 
care  little  for  these,  and  we  soon  learn  that 
he  loves  Michaela. 

The  factory  bell  now  rings,  and  a  crowd 
of  young  men  and  boys  at  once  fill  the 
square  in  eager  anticipation  of  seeing  the 
cigar  girls.  Jose  sits  down  near  the  guard- 
house and  busies  himself  with  a  little  chain 
he  is  mending.  The  tenors  sing  a  short 
pianissimo  chorus  about  these  dark-eyed 
girls,  whom  they  always  court  and  follow. 
It  closes  with  a  drooping,  yearning  ritar- 
dando  that  quite  prepares  us  for  the  next 
languishing  measures.  The  factory  girls 
enter,  with  cigarettes  in  their  mouths  and  a 
nonchalant  manner  that  is  delightful.     Be- 

122 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

tween  puffs  of  smoke  they  sing  a  slumbrous 
refrain  that  suggests  the  effect  of  nicotine. 
The  lingering  legato  melody  seems  to  rise 
softly  and  rest  in  the  air  until  it  passes  away 
in  tones  so  faint  that  Bizet  has  marked  them 
four  times  pianissimo. 

The  young  men  now  accost  the  girls,  and 
soon  inquire  for  Carmen.  "Where  is  Car- 
men?" That  tragic  cry  which  ended  the 
prelude  is  heard  again  in  the  orchestra,  but 
so  disguised  by  rapid  tempo  as  to  be  scarcely 
recognizable,  and  with  this  theme  Carmen 
rushes  upon  the  scene. 

Black-eyed,  pearly-teethed  Carmen,  with 
cheeks  like  the  red  acacia  flowers  at  her 
throat,  and  her  whole  appearance  like  a 
splash  of  sunshine ! 

The  youths  clamor  about  her  and  inquire 

collectively    when     she    will     love     them. 

Carmen  bestows  regardlessly  some  of  her 

dangerous  laughing  glances,  and  then  sings 

her  great  song,  the   "Habenera,"  so  called 

because  of  its  rhythm,  which  is  like  a  Spanish 

dance.     But    no    mazy,    undulating    dance 

123 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

could  be  so  fascinating  as  this  song  about 
"Love,  the  child  of  Bohemia."  The  com- 
pass of  its  ravishing  melody  is  within  a 
single  octave.  The  notes  cling  lovingly 
together,  for  the  intervals  are  mostly  half- 
tones; and,  indeed,  as  Carmen  sings  them 
each  one  seems  like  a  kiss  or  a  caress.  The 
theme  is  first  given  in  the  minor,  and  then 
softly  taken  up  by  the  chorus  in  the  major 
— an  effect  as  surprising  and  delightful  as 
a  sudden  breeze  on  a  sultry  night.  The 
accompaniment  is  like  the  soft  picking  of 
mandolins,  and  all  things  combine  to  repre- 
sent the  warm  luxuriance  of  Spain. 

During  the  song  Carmen  has  perceived 
Don  Jose,  who  continues  his  work  and  gives 
her  no  attention  whatever,  which  is  a  new 
experience  for  this  spoiled  and  petted  cigar- 
ette girl.  She  purposely  becomes  more 
personal  in  her  song,  and  ends  with  the 
audacious  words,  "  if  you  love  me  not  and  I 
love  you — beware!"  With  a  sudden  dash 
of  impertinent  coquetry  she  flings  a  flower 

at  Don  Jose,  and  then  rushes  off  the  stage 

124 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

amid  peals  of  laughter  from  the  others,  who 
follow.  The  young  soldier,  thus  left  alone, 
finds  himself  troubled  with  mingled  feelings 
of  resentment  at  the  girl's  impudence  and 
admiration  for  her  beauty.  He  puts  the 
flower  in  his  coat,  but  at  once  forgets  the 
whole  incident  as  he  sees  Michaela,  whom 
he  joyously  welcomes. 

She  has  come  to  town  for  a  day,  and  she 
brings  a  letter  from  his  mother,  also  some 
money,  and  still  something  else,  which  she 
hesitates  over,  but  finally  delivers  as  it  was 
given  her — a  kiss  from  his  mother.  There 
is  nothing  of  the  coquette  about  Michaela, 
and  her  songs  are  all  straightforward,  sim- 
ple airs  that  win  by  their  very  artless- 
ness.  Her  message  is  sung  with  harp  ac- 
companiment, and  the  harmonies  are  pure 
and  clear.  Then  follows  a  duet  about  the 
mother  and  home  in  the  village,  and  the 
tenderness  of  this  music  reveals  that  Don 
Jose  is  a  loving  and  devoted  son.  When 
the  duet  is  ended  Michaela  leaves  Jose  to 
read  his  letter.     Music  as  peaceful  as  village 

125 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

church  bells  comes  from  the  orchestra  while 
the  young  soldier  reads.  He  touches  the 
letter  to  his  lips  and  is  prepared  to  obey  his 
mother,  especially  in  the  matter  of  wedding 
the  pretty  Michaela. 

His  thoughts  are  interrupted  by  a  wild 
scream  from  the  factory  and  sounds  of  dis- 
puting voices.  A  number  of  girls  rush  from 
the  building,  all  talking  at  once,  and  they 
fairly  besiege  Zuniga  with  explanations  of 
what  has  happened.  There  was  a  quarrel 
and  Carmen  struck  another  girl — some  say 
she  did,  and  some  say  she  didn't.  Don  Jose, 
in  the  mean  time,  has  gone  into  the  factory 
and  brings  out  the  struggling  Carmen.  He 
tells  his  superior  officer  about  the  affair, 
which  ended  in  one  girl's  being  wounded 
by  "this  one."  Carmen  tosses  her  head, 
and  when  the  officer  asks  what  she  has  to 
say  in  defense  she  looks  into  his  face  and 
sings  "  la-la-la-la ! ' '  Her  impertinence  would 
be  almost  repellent  were  it  not  that  her  voice 
is  "like  the  wooing  wind,"  and  even  her 

"  la-la-la  "  is  bewitching.     Further  question- 

126 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ing  only  elicits  the  same  response,  and  the 
officer  angrily  declares  she  may  finish  her 
song   in   prison.     He   orders   Don    Jose   to 
fetter  her  hands  and  keep  watch  while  he 
goes  to  make  out  the  order  of  imprisonment. 
While  all  are  gone  a  most  interesting  scene 
occurs  between  the  prisoner  and  her  keeper. 
The  latter  ties  her  hands,  and  says  he  must 
take  her  soon  to  prison,  as  his  superior  has 
ordered.     Carmen,  in  her  present  attitude 
of  charming   helplessness,  announces  with 
sweetest  tones  that  Don  Jose  will  help  her, 
in  spite  of  the  orders,  because  "  I  know  you 
love  me!"     This  is  too  much.     When  Jose 
recovers  from  his  astonishment  at  her  au- 
dacity he   commands   her   to   sit   still   and 
not    speak    to    him — "not   another   word." 
Carmen  nods  her  head  in  saucy  obedience, 
and  talks  no  more ;  she  only  sings !     Sings 
of  "  an  inn  near  the  ramparts  of  Sevilla " 
where  she  will  go  to  dance  the  Seguidilla. 
The  song  is  in  the  rhythm  of  that  dance, 
and  its  sinuous  melody  is  handled  by  Car- 
men  like  a  toy.      She  composes  words  to 

127 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

suit   the  occasion :    "  My  heart  is  free  and 
willing  to  love  whoever  loves  me." 

Don  Jose,  who  has  been  trying  to  ignore 
her,  but  without  success,  tells  her  again 
to  stop.  She  looks  up  with  a  grieved  ex- 
pression and  her  prettiest  smile,  and  says  she 
is  not  talking,  only  singing  to  herself  and 
thinking;  he  surely  cannot  forbid  her 
thinking!  So  she  goes  on  thinking  aloud 
about  a  "  certain  officer,  who  is  not  captain, 
nor  even  lieutenant — he  is  only  a  briga- 
dier; but  still  he  is  great  enough  to  win 
the  heart  of  Carmen."  Such  words,  music, 
glances,  and  smiles  are  more  than  Don  Jose 
can  resist,  and  it  is  not  long  before  he 
succumbs  to  her  witchery.  He  unties  her 
hands  and  asks  desperately,  "Carmen, 
Carmen,  do  you  mean  it?  "  And  for  an- 
swer she  softly  sings  to  him  that  rapturous 
song  of  the  Seguidilla. 

The    orchestra    now   starts    up   a  lively 

repetition  of  the  last  chattering  chorus,  and 

with  it  the  superior  officer,  Zuniga,  reenters. 

He  hands  Jose  the  order  and  bids  him  lead 

128 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

Calve  as  Carmen. 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

the  prisoner  to  her  destination.  Carmen 
holds  her  hands  back,  as  tho  still  fet- 
tered, and  she  tells  Jose  in  an  undertone  to 
let  her  push  him  as  they  march  off,  and 
during  the  commotion  thus  aroused  she  will 
escape.  Then  she  turns  to  Zuniga,  and  with 
the  greatest  effrontery  favors  him  with  a 
fragment  of  the  "  Habenera"  song,  to  which 
refrain  she  marches  away  with  apparent 
docility.  The  whole  group  of  cigarette 
girls  and  young  men  follow  after.  Just  as 
they  are  turning  to  the  bridge,  Carmen 
escapes  as  she  has  planned.  She  throws 
back  the  rope  from  her  hands  and  runs  off 
laughing.  It  is  fun  for  all  but  Don  Jose, 
who  for  this  neglect  of  duty  is  himself  es- 
corted to  prison. 

Bizet  has  preceded  every  act  with  an 
orchestral  ifttroduction  called  the  entr - 
acte,  which  presents  some  important  theme 
or  portrays  the  character  of  the  scene. 
Thus  before  the  curtain  rises  on  the  second 
act  we  become  familiar  with  a  new  and 
happy  melody,  which  we  later  on  recog- 
9  129 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

nize  and  welcome.  After  the  entr  acte  the 
stringed  instruments,  with  a  touch  of  the 
triangle  and  tambourine,  hold  the  supremacy 
as  they  breathe  forth  faint,  weird  harmonies 
that  flit  about  like  moving  shadows.  The 
scene  presents  an  interior  view  of  the  inn 
"near  the  ramparts  of  Se villa." 

It  is  evening,  and  amid  the  glow  of  soft 
lights  Carmen  and  her  gypsy  friends  are 
entertaining  some  officers  with  their  danc- 
ing. She  further  enlivens  the  scene  by 
singing  a  Bohemian  song,  whose  liquid 
phrases  fall  upon  the  air  like  the  soft  splash- 
ing of  a  fountain. 

After  the  song  and  dance  it  is  time  for 

the  inn  to  close,  but  at  this  moment  shouts 

and  hurrahs  are  heard  from  without.     It  is 

a  torchlight  procession  in  honor  of  Escamillo, 

the  bull-fighter,  who  presently  enters  amid 

general  acclamations.     He  wears  a  gorgeous 

costume,  and  sings  a  rousing  song  about  the 

exciting  life  of  a  toreador.     This  baritone 

aria  is  the  most  famous  of  the  many  popular 

numbers  which  comprise   this  opera.      Its 

130 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA, 

Strongly  accented  rhythm  and  pulsating 
theme  immediately  suggest  the  blaze  of 
lights  and  blare  of  trumpets  which  belong 
to  the  arena. 

Escamillo  soon  perceives  Carmen,  and  as 
quickly  falls  in  love.  She  dismisses  him 
with  a  coquettish  remark  that  might  mean 
much  or  little,  and  then  all  depart  excepting 
Carmen  and  her  two  gypsy  friends,  Fras- 
quita  and  Mercedes.  These  are  soon  joined 
by  their  comrades,  the  two  smugglers,  who 
softly  tell  of  a  new  enterprise  which  will 
require  the  "ladies'  assistance."  Frasquita 
and  Mercedes  consent  to  leave  at  once. 
Then  follows  an  exquisite  quintet,  sung 
with  tempo  prestissimo  and  tones  pianissimo. 
Carmen  suddenly  astounds  them  with  the 
assertion  that  she  can  not  go,  and  gives  as 
her  reason  that  she  is  awaiting  Don  Jose, 
who  to-day  is  released  after  two  months' 
imprisonment,  and  further  adds  that  she 
loves  him.  They  take  this  at  first  as  a  joke ; 
but  finding  her  determined,  they  suggest 
that  she   induce   Jose   to  join    them.     She 

131 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

says  she  will  try,  and  the  rest  hurry  out  as 
they  hear  the  young  soldier  approaching. 

He  is  singing  a  gay  barrack  song,  and 
thus  comes  to  Carmen  with  his  heart  in  his 
voice  and  soul  in  his  eyes.  She  welcomes 
him  impulsively,  and  ere  long  she  sings  and 
dances  for  his  amusement.  Her  song  is 
but  an  accompaniment  to  the  dance — a  low, 
crooning  melody  without  words  which  re- 
sembles the  contented  purring  of  a  magnifi- 
cent feline  as  she  glides  and  sways  with  a 
splendid  grace  around  the  infatuated  Jose. 
A  bugle-call  is  heard  in  the  distance,  a  sum- 
mons the  soldier  must  obey,  and  he  stops 
Carmen  in  the  midst  of  her  dance.  She 
thinks  he  is  joking  and  commences  again ; 
but  when  she  actually  realizes  that  he  is 
going  to  leave  her,  that  he  finds  it  possible 
to  leave,  a  perfect  whirlwind  succeeds  the 
sirocco.  She  throws  him  his  cap  and  sword, 
and  bids  him  go  forever  if  such  is  his  love. 
Poor  Don  Jose  remonstrates,  but  she  will 
not  listen  until  at  last  he  forces  her  to  hear 

how  real  and  true  is  his  love  for  her.     He 

132 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

draws  from  his  coat  the  little  flower  she 
threw  at  him  two  months  ago,  and  he  tells 
how,  during  all  his  days  in  prison,  it  was 
his  dearest  treasure.  This  music  is  more 
like  the  song  of  a  pilgrim  at  a  sacred  shrine 
than  a  song  of  love,  it  is  so  simple  and 
sincere.  Its  tenderness  seems  to  reach  even 
the  heart  of  Carmen,  for  she  now  turns  and 
with  entreating  looks  and  wooing  tones  she 
coaxes  him  to  go  with  her  and  lead  the  free 
life  of  a  bandit. 

The  accompaniment  is  like  the  distant 
prancing  of  wild  horses  and  the  melody 
like  the  forest  wind,  low  as  a  whisper,  but 
sweeping  before  it  all  the  fluttering  doubts 
of  a  weak  conscience.  It  is  desertion,  dis- 
grace, dishonor,  that  Carmen  asks  of  him, 
and  Jose  recoils.  He  is  just  on  the  point  of 
refusing  when  a  knock  at  the  door  is  heard 
and  Zuniga  enters.  He  is  himself  in  love 
with  Carmen,  and  has  presumed  to  thus 
return  after  the  others  have  gone  in  hopes 
of  finding  her  alone.  On  discovering  the 
presence  of  Don  Jose  he  is  angry  and  orders 

^33 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

him  away ;  but  Jose's  jealousy  is  also  aroused 
and  he  firmly  refuses  to  obey.  A  duel 
would  ensue  did  not  Carmen  quickly  call 
her  friends.  They  seize  Zuniga,  and  to 
avoid  being  denounced  must  keep  him  pris- 
oner until  they  have  made  sure  their  es- 
cape. Carmen  turns  to  Jose  and  asks  once 
more  if  he  will  be  one  of  them.  As  there 
is  now  no  alternative,  he  consents,  where- 
upon Carmen  with  light  steps  and  light 
heart  rushes  to  his  arms  like  a  sunbeam, 
dispelling  for  the  moment  all  clouds  of 
memory  and  doubt.  The  free,  fearless 
measures  of  her  mountain  song  are  heard 
again  as  all  sing  about  the  gypsies'  life  of 
liberty.  They  all  go  off  as  the  curtain  falls. 
The  next  cntr  actc  is  sometimes  called  the 
intermezzo,  for  it  divides  the  opera — the 
comedy  from  the  tragedy — and  it  contains 
the  first  premonition  of  sorrow.  As  the 
curtain  rises  we  hear  a  stealthy,  shivering 
theme  that  well  characterizes  the  scene  be- 
fore us — a  wild,  picturesque  ravine,  which 
is  the  smugglers'   retreat.      Some  gypsies 

^34 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

are  reclining  on  the  rocks;  others  soon 
enter,  and  sing  a  quite  enticing  chorus 
about  the  dangers  and  pleasures  of  their 
profession.  Two  leaders  of  the  band  then 
go  off  to  reconnoiter,  while  the  others  rest. 
Don  Jose  is  seen  standing  on  one  of  the 
rocks,  and  when  Carmen  rather  moodily 
inquires  his  thoughts  he  tells  her  of  his 
mother  in  the  village,  who  still  believes  him 
to  be  an  honest  man.  Carmen  coldly  ad- 
vises him  to  go  back  to  her.  Quick  as 
thought-suggestion  the  orchestra  recalls  the 
tragic  motif  which  we  had  almost  forgotten. 
It  causes  us  to  feel  with  Jose  the  sting  of 
Carmen's  words. 

Our  attention  is  now  directed  to  Frasquita 
and  Mercedes,  who  are  seated  on  a  bale  of 
goods  and  trying  their  fortunes.  A  light 
staccato  accompaniment  sustains  their  still 
lighter  song.  The  dainty  measures  are 
flung  up  like  bubbles,  reflecting  the  gay 
colors  of  the  cards,  which  chance  to  be  all 
diamonds  and  hearts.  Carmen  also  tries 
her  luck,  but  only  the  dark  cards  fall  to  her 

135 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

— death,  always  death ;  and  to  the  supersti- 
tious gyspy  this  is  like  a  knell.  Again  that 
tragic,  mournful  theme,  like  the  extended 
hand  of  fate,  feels  its  way  slowly  but  surely 
through  the  orchestra,  and  then  Carmen 
sings  a  meditative,  melancholy  refrain 
about  the  cards  whose  "  decrees  are  never 
false."  The  music  is  in  a  low  key,  as  tho 
kept  under  and  depressed  by  her  despair, 
and  it  touches  our  sympathy  to  see  the 
sunny,  frivolous  Carmen  for  once  thought- 
ful. 

The  two  smugglers  presently  return  and 
report  that  three  coast-guards  intercept  the 
way.  The  girls  promise  to  entertain  and 
divert  these  while  the  men  make  off  with 
the  booty.  To  the  strains  of  a  rollicking 
chorus  they  all  go  out,  after  stationing  Don 
Jose  as  watch  on  one  of  the  highest  rocks 
At  this  moment  Michaela,  with  a  guide, 
comes  timidly  forward.  She  has  dared  to 
follow  the  smugglers  to  this  retreat  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  Jose  and  begging  him  to 

return.     She  has  tried  to  be  brave,  but  her 

136 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

heart  now  trembles,  and  this  fact  she  con- 
fesses in  her  beautiful  and  best  aria,   "Je 
dis    que   rien    ("I    say   that   nothing   shall 
terrify    me").       As    she    begs    Heaven    to 
strengthen  her  courage,  the  soft  arpeggios 
of  the  instruments  seem  to  rise  like  incense 
and  carry  her  sweet  prayer  with  them.     She 
presently  perceives  Jose  in  the  distance  and 
tries  to  attract  his  attention,  but  he  is  watch- 
ing another  intruder — on  whom  he  now  fires. 
Michaela  hides  herself  in  terror  as  Escamillo 
enters  and  philosophically  studies  the  newly 
made  bullet-hole  in  his  cap.     Don  Jose  also 
comes  down  to  interrogate  this  visitor.     The 
toreador  good-naturedly  informs  him   that 
he  has  fallen  in  love  with  a  gypsy  girl.  Car- 
men, and  comes  to  find  her.     He  also  adds, 
"  It  is  known  that  a  young  soldier  recently 
deserted  his  post  for  her,  but  she  no  longer 
loves  him."     Jealousy  seems  but  a  feeble 
word  to  describe  the  feelings  of  Don  Jose 
on    hearing  this.      He   quickly  reveals  his 
identity     and     challenges      the      toreador. 
After   a   short   duet,   which  contains  chro- 

^37 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

matic  crescendos  of  blind  fury  for  the  tenor 
and  insolent  intervals  for  the  baritone, 
they  fight.  Carmen,  for  the  second  time, 
averts  a  duel  by  her  timely  entrance.  She 
calls  for  help,  and  the  whole  troupe  of 
gypsies  rush  in.  They  separate  the  rivals 
and  order  them  to  suspend  their  quarrel,  as 
all  is  now  arranged  for  the  journey.  Before 
bidding  farewell  Escamillo  invites  all  to  his 
next  bull-fight  in  Seville.  "  Whoever  loves 
me  will  come," — this  with  a  tender  look  to 
Carmen  that  maddens  Jose. 

Escamillo  goes  off  and  the  others  also 
start,  but  they  suddenly  discover  Michaela 
in  her  hiding-place  and  bring  her  forward. 
She  is  frightened  and  rushes  to  Jose  for 
protection,  begging  him  to  go  home  with 
her.  Carmen  cruelly  seconds  this  entreaty, 
and  then  Jose  turns  upon  her:  "Take  care, 
Carmen!"  The  words  are  menacing,  but 
not  so  the  music.  Jose  suffers  more  than 
he  hates,  and,  instead  of  the  rising  tones 
of  anger,  the  harmonies  which  struggle 
upward   are   continually   repulsed    as   they 

138 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

reach  the  top,  like  a  wild  bird  that  beats  its 
wings  against  prison  bars.  When  Michaela 
finally  tells  him  that  his  mother  is  dying, 
Don  Jose  consents  to  go.  He  calls  out  to 
Carmen,  "  We  shall  meet  again !  "  She  pays 
little  heed  to  his  words,  but  a  glad  smile 
lights  her  features  as  she  hears  in  the  dis- 
tance the  song  of  the  toreador.  And  with 
this  melody  the  act  ends. 

The  final  scene  represents  the  gates  of 
the  arena  where  occurs  the  great  bull-fight, 
and  the  preceding  entr  acte  is  like  the  fla- 
ming advertisement  of  a  circus,  exciting  and 
enthusing  from  first  to  last.  The  opening 
chorus  is  sung  by  venders  who  throng  the 
square  and  cry  their  wares.  After  this  the 
arena  music  announces  the  entrance  of  the 
performers.  They  come  in  on  horseback, 
and  amid  enthusiastic  greetings  from  the 
crowd  ride  into  the  arena.  Escamillo,  the 
hero  of  the  hour,  enters  with  Carmen  at  his 
side.  The  public  cry,  "Vive,  Escamilla!" 
and  burst  into  a  vociferous  singing  of  the 
"  Toreador  Song. "     Carmen  is  radiant  as  the 

139 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

dawn,  and  the  bull-fighter  wears  colors  and 

spangles   that    quite   eclipse    any   soldier's 

uniform.     Before  he   enters  the  ring  thev 

sing  a  love-duet  that  displays  more  depth 

of  feeling  than  we  should  expect  from  a 

Zingara. 

When   the   toreador    has   gone   and    the 

arena  gates  are  closed,  Mercedes  and  Fras- 

quita   anxiously  inform   Carmen  that   Don 

Jose  has  been  seen  in  the  crowd,  and  they 

urge  her  to  leave ;  but  she  declares  she  is 

not  afraid  of  Jose  or  any  one.     They  leave 

her  alone,  and  presently  the  rejected  lover 

appears  before  her.     But  not  in  auger  or  to 

avenge  does  Don  Jose  present  himself.     He 

is  too  utterly  dejected  and  broken-hearted 

for   that.     He  comes   only  to   entreat  and 

plead  for  her  love.     Before  he  speaks  we 

are  warned  by  the  ever-terrible  death-theme, 

which  has  hung  over  the  whole  opera  like  a 

suspended  sword,  that  the  end  is  near.     But 

Don    Jose   does    not   know   this.     Neither 

does  Carmen,  else  perhaps  she  would  not  so 

ruthlessly  spurn  him  when  he  begs  her  to 

140 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

go  with  him  and  begin  a  new  life.  When 
he  piteonsly  asks  if  she  no  longer  loves  him, 
her  answer  is  a  decisive  "  Non ;  je  ne  t'aime 
plus."  But  words  have  lost  their  sting  for 
poor  Jose.  In  a  minor  melody,  that  seems 
to  cry  out  for  pity,  he  says  he  loves  her  still. 
He  offers  to  remain  a  bandit — anything,  all 
things !  And  then  the  pathetic  minor  melody 
breaks  into  the  major  as  he  desperately  adds : 
"  Only,  Carmen,  do  not  leave  me !  "  At  this 
moment  a  fanfare  and  applause  are  heard  in 
the  arena,  which  cause  Carmen's  face  to 
glow  with  pleasure  as  she  thinks  of  Esca- 
millo.  She  tries  to  rush  past  Don  Jose  into 
the  amphitheater,  but  he  intercepts  her  and 
forces  her  to  confess  that  she  loves  this  man 
whom  they  applaud.  Once  again  the  gay 
fanfare  is  heard,  and  Carmen  tries  to  pass. 

It  is  now  that  the  tragic  motif  takes  pos- 
session of  the  orchestra  and  dominates  all 
else.  Fearful  and  appalling  sound  those  five 
notes  which  form  the  theme  as  they  are 
repeated  in  various   keys.     In  a  frenzy  of 

anguish  Don  Jose  asks  Carmen  for  the  last 

141 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

time  to  go  with  him.  She  refuses,  and 
then,  as  the  toreador's  song  of  triumph 
announces  his  success,  Jose  stabs  the  beau- 
tiful gypsy,  who  falls  at  his  feet  like  a 
crushed  butterfly.  The  gates  of  the  arena 
are  thrown  open  and  its  glittering  pageant 
comes  forth,  while  Jose,  with  insane  grief, 
calls  out,  "  I  have  killed  her — Carmen — 
whom  I  adored !  " 

There  is  no  climax  more  thrilling  on  the 
lyric  stage  than  this  death  of  Carmen. 


142 


"Hamlet. 


35 


"HAMLET." 

Of  all  Shakespeare's  plays,  Hamlet  is  the 
most  difficult  to  surround  with  music  and 
adapt  for  the  lyric  stage.  It  is  more  scho- 
lastic than  dramatic,  and  for  this  reason  com- 
posers have  passed  it  by  with  the  single 
exception  of  Ambroise  Thomas.  His  ac- 
complishment certainly  deserves  more  com- 
mendation than  was  bestowed  by  an  irate 
critic  who  said:  "There  are  four  weary, 
dreary  acts  before  you  come  to  the  music." 
This  assertion  is  correct  in  one  way,  for  the 
opera  is  indeed  long — quite  too  long;  but 
there  is,  nevertheless,  much  that  is  beautiful 
in  those  four  acts  preceding  the  mad  scene. 
But  even  were  this  not  the  case,  that  last 
scene  is  so  exquisite  that  it  would  atone  for 
any  amount  of  previous  ennui. 

Thomas  has  given  his  principal  role  to 

the  baritone,  which  seems  an  innovation. 
lo  145 


STARS    OF  THE   OPERA. 

Whenever  a  lower  voice  has  been  honored 
■with  the  leading  role  in  a  grand  opera  the 
reason  is  found  in  the  character,  as  the 
jovial  Barber  of  Seville,  the  deformed 
Rigoletto,  the  accursed  Flying  Dutchman; 
but  the  tenor  has  always  held  undisputed 
possession  of  the  lover's  part.  It  takes  us 
some  little  time  to  become  reconciled  to 
this  baritone-voiced  young  prince.  But  we 
finally  realize  that  he  is  less  a  lover  than  a 
philosopher,  which  probably  explains  why 
Thomas  turned  trom  the  tenor. 

The  opera  opens  with  a  short  and  somber 
prelude  that  closely  resembles  the  later  in- 
troduction to  the  ghost-scene.  It  is  there- 
fore more  descriptive  of  the  melancholy 
Dane  than  of  the  first  act,  which  is  brilliant 
throughout.  The  curtain  rises  upon  a  state 
hall  in  the  palace,  where  have  been  cele- 
brated the  wedding  and  coronation  of  Clau- 
dius and  Gertrude,  brother  and  widow  of 
the  late  king.  A  sturdy  march  that  is 
quite  Danish  in  character  accompanies  the 

grand  entrance  of  the  king  and  queen .     That 

146 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

music  can  express  a  nationality  is  clearly 
evinced  by  this  march,  which  possesses  a 
rugged,  North-sea  atmosphere  that  differs 
from  all  others.  The  first  aria  is  given 
by  the  king,  who  eulogizes  his  new-made 
wife,  "  our  som.etime  sister,  now  our  queen." 
After  this  bass  solo  with  its  pleasing  rhythm 
and  satisfying  cadences  the  queen  inquires 
for  her  son  Hamlet,  who  is  not  among  the 
revelers.  But  her  anxieties  are  drowned 
by  the  festive  music  that  recommences  and 
continues  until  the  entire  court  have  made 
their  exit. 

The  music  now  changes  to  a  meditative, 
minor  mood,  which  announces  the  entrance 
of  Hamlet.  He  shares  no  joy  on  this  occa- 
sion of  his  mother's  wedding,  and  his  first 
words  are  a  short  recitative  about  "  frailty, 
thy  name  is  woman." 

His  soliloquy  is   followed  by  a  phrase  in 

the  orchestra — a  timid,  questioning  sort  of 

introduction    which    before    the    opera    is 

over  we  learn  to  associate  with  the  gentle 

Ophelia.     She  enters  and  addresses  Hamlet, 

147 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

her  betrothed,  with  an  anxious  inquiry  about 
his  intended  departure  from  Denmark.  On 
learning  from  his  own  lips  that  the  report 
is  true,  she  asks  why  he  leaves,  and  begins 
to  doubt  his  love.  There  is  a  daintiness  and 
a  delicacy  to  all  of  Ophelia's  music;  and 
in  this  short  melody,  so  admirably  blended 
with  the  accompaniment,  there  is  a  wooing 
charm  that  diverts  even  Hamlet  from  his 
grief.  He  clasps  her  hands,  and  with  thrill- 
ing fervor  bids  her — 

"  Doubt  that  the  stars  are  fire, 
Doubt  that  the  sun  doth  move, 
Doubt  Truth  to  be  a  liar, 
But  never  doubt  I  love. " 

This  is  the  great   theme  of  the  opera,  the 

center-stone  of  the  musical  crown  that  the 

French  composer  has  given  to  Shakespeare's 

Hamlet.     Its  love-laden  melody  would  carry 

conviction    to   a   less    trusting    heart  than 

Ophelia's.     She  receives  it  like  truth  from 

heaven.     Its  memory  lingers  ever,  and  even 

in  her  after  madness,  when  the  words  have 

no  meaning,  we  hear  them  again  "  like  sweet 

148 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

bells  jangled  out  of  tune."  There  follows 
a  duet  based  upon  Hamlet's  vow.  The 
soprano  voice  occasionally  runs  up  in  some 
happy  little  roulades  which  seem  like  the 
outburst  of  joy  which  can  not  confine  itself 
to  the  prescribed  theme.  However  long  the 
whole  opera,  we  certainly  could  not  spare  a 
note  from  the  love-duet;  it  ends  only  too 
soon. 

Ophelia's  brother,  Laertes,  comes  in. 
He  is  a  soldier,  and  has  just  received  a  com- 
mission which  requires  his  speedy  departure ; 
so  he  sings  a  farewell  to  his  sister  and  bids 
Hamlet  be  as  a  brother  to  her  in  case  he 
never  returns.  This  first  and  only  cavatina 
of  Laertes  is  well  worth  a  good  artist.  It 
is  melodious  and  pleasing,  even  when  com- 
pared to  the  previous  duet.  As  he  finishes, 
gay  music  is  heard  from  the  inner  hall. 
Ophelia  asks  Hamlet  to  join  the  festivities, 
but  he  declines  and  retires  sorrowfully  as 
some  pages  and  young  officers  enter.  They 
sing   a   unique   and  merry  chorus   without 

accompaniment,  which  is  interrupted  by  the 

149 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

entrance  of  Horatio  and  Marcellus,  who 
inquire  for  Hamlet.  They  declare  they 
have  seen  the  ghost  of  the  late  king,  and 
seek  to  apprise  Hamlet  of  the  fact.  The 
merry-makers  laugh  and  call  it  a  delusion ; 
but  the  two  friends  continue  their  search 
for  the  young  prince.  The  dance  music  is 
resum^ed,  and  so  fascinating  and  emphatic 
is  its  rhythm  that  our  pulses  throb  in  tempo 
long  after  the  curtain  descends. 

The  second  act  represents  the  esplanade 
outside  of  the  castle.  It  is  a  chilly  moon- 
light night — a  sharp  contrast  to  the  beam  of 
lights  from  within  and  the  blare  of  dance 
music  which  ever  and  anon  reaches  our 
ears.  But  the  prelude  which  opens  the  act 
is  thoroughly  descriptive  of  the  scene  be- 
fore us.  It  has  deep,  rumbling  tremolos 
and  chilling  chromatic  crescendos,  with  here 
and  there  a  moaning,  wo- weighted  theme 
that  is  piteous  to  hear.  There  is  much 
singing  without  orchestra  and  much  or- 
chestra without  singing  in  this  scene  of  the 
esplanade,   which  accounts   for  the  charge 

150 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

against  it  of  being  "  rather  thin  ghost  mu- 
sic." Horatio  and  Marcellus  are  the  first 
to  enter.  They  are  soon  joined  by  Hamlet, 
to  whom  they  recount  the  strange  visitation 
of  the  previous  night.  As  they  wait  and 
watch  for  the  specter  to  reappear,  a  gay 
fanfare  from  the  palace  jars  upon  the  still- 
ness. Strains  of  the  wedding-march  are 
heard,  and  there  seems  abundant  reason 
for  the  dead  king  to  rise  from  his  grave! 
Hamlet  utters  expletives  over  the  mockery 
of  such  gaiety  within,  while  "here  is  the 
shadow  of  mourning."  His  words  are  ac- 
companied by  an  oft-repeated  minor  phrase 
of  four  notes  which  is  stealthy  and  fearful. 
This  ghost-theme  alternates  with  a  single 
monotonous  tone  that  represents  the  twelve 
strokes  of  a  clock.  Hamlet  hushes  his 
singing ;  there  is  a  soft,  eerie  tremolo  of  the 
violins;  the  pale  moonlight  falls  upon  the 
castle's  turreted  towers.  Marcellus  and 
Horatio  speak  in  whispers,  when  suddenly 
the  orchestra  gives  a  great  crash  of  brass 
and  cymbals  that  makes  your  blood  freeze. 

151 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  phantom  has  appeared.  Now  follows 
the  incantation,  so  called  because  Hamlet 
conjures  the  spirit  to  speak  to  him.  This 
music  is  based  entirely  upon  the  four-note 
ghost  theme,  which  is  elaborated  and  car- 
ried by  the  orchestra  through  many  forms. 
At  last  the  specter  speaks,  and  in  a  deep 
monotone  informs  Hamlet  how  he  was  mur- 
dered by  the  present  King.  His  own 
brother  stole  his  life,  his  wife,  and  his 
throne.  He  bids  Hamlet  avenge  this  ter- 
rible crime,  and  then  disappears.  Hamlet 
cries  out  in  a  theme  large  and  grand,  "  Fare- 
well to  fame,  love,  and  happiness!"  Re- 
venge shall  hereafter  be  the  aim  of  his  life. 
The  peaceful  love-music  greets  our  ears 
as  we  look  upon  the  next  scene,  which 
reveals  the  gardens  of  the  palace.  The 
superb  theme  of  Hamlet's  vow  rings  out  in 
clear,  untroubled  octaves  as  the  fair  Ophelia 
comes  forward  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 
She  is  trying  to  read,  but  thoughts  of  Hamlet 
constantly  intrude  themselves.  "  He  has 
not  touched  my  hand  for  quite  two  days,  and 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

seems  to  avoid  my  presence."  She  again 
turns  to  her  book  and  reads  aloud.  Ophelia 
reads  very  beautifully.  Thomas  has  with 
music  conveyed  the  impression  of  enuncia- 
ting words  from  a  book.  We  would  know 
she  was  reading  even  if  the  book  were  not 
visible  nor  the  words  audible,  and  yet  it  is 
not  by  means  of  a  monotone  that  this  idea 
is  conveyed.  It  is  a  simple  song  melody, 
and  the  effect  is  probably  due  to  the  rhythm 
rather  than  the  intervals.  After  reading 
one  stanza,  Hamlet's  vow — that  theme  so 
deep  and  true — is  again  heard,  and  the  hero 
himself  comes  thoughtfully  upon  the  scene. 
He  is  in  the  background,  but  Ophelia  has 
seen  him,  and  she  quickly  makes  a  pretense 
of  reading.  She  listens  for  every  step  as 
he  draws  nearer,  and  believes  he  will  speak. 
He  sees  her  and  at  first  comes  forward,  but 
then  remembers  that  he  has  foresworn  love ; 
and  thinking  she  has  not  seen  him,  he  quietly 
retires.  Poor  Ophelia  throws  down  her 
book  in  wildest  grief,  and  a  song  of  despair 
springs  from  her  heart.      "  Vows  have  wings 

153 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

and  they  fly  with  the  dawn ;  the  day  which 
gives  them  birth  also  sees  them  die. "  Every 
note  is  like  a  tear,  and  the  harmonies  are 
plaintive  and  pitiful. 

The  queen  presently  enters  and  is  grieved 
to  find  Ophelia  weeping.  The  latter  ex- 
plains that  Hamlet  no  longer  loves  her,  and 
she  begs  permission  to  leave  the  court ;  but 
the  queen  puts  other  ideas  in  her  head.  She 
says  that  Hamlet  has  also  acted  strangely 
toward  her,  and  she  believes  his  mind  is 
affected.  For  this  reason  she  asks  Ophelia 
to  remain,  and  hopes  her  presence  may  re- 
store him.  This  first  song  of  the  queen, 
who  must  have  a  mezzo-soprano  voice  of 
dramatic  quality,  combines  dignity  and 
pathos.  Its  mood  does  not  contrast,  but 
harmonizes  with  the  previous  aria.  Ophelia 
accepts  the  queen's  advice,  and  then  goes 
off  as  the  king  enters.  He  confers  with 
his  wife  about  Hamlet's  alarming  behavior, 
but  their  conversation  is  interrupted  by  the 
prince  himself,  who  greets  them  moodily 
and  assumes  more  vagaries  than  he  feels. 

154 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

He  is  constantly  seeking  to  entrap  the  king 
into  some  sign  or  remark  which  will  verify 
the  ghost's  charge  of  murder.  He  has 
therefore  planned  to  have  a  play  enacted 
which  shall  depict  the  king's  crime.  His 
invitation  to  this  theatrical  entertainment  is 
welcomed  by  the  unsuspecting  king  and 
queen,  who  are  delighted  that  he  thus  seeks 
diversion.  As  they  go  off,  Hamlet  exclaims 
tragically,  "  Patience,  my  father,  patience !  " 
and  the  orchestra  reveals  to  us  thoughts  of 
revenge,  for  we  hear  again  that  ponderous 
and  melancholy  theme  which  ended  the 
ghost  scene. 

Hamlet  is  now  joined  by  the  actors  whom 
he  has  engaged  for  the  play.  They  sing  a 
characteristic  chorus  about  their  several 
talents,  and  then  Hamlet  explains  to  them 
the  plot  they  are  to  enact — how  a  king  whom 
he  calls  Gonzago  shall  be  poisoned  by  his 
brother,  who  afterward  places  the  crown  on 
his  own  head  and  marries  the  widow.  After 
this  preliminary,  Hamlet  calls  for  wine  and 
bids  the  players  make  merry.     He  sings  to 

155 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

them  a  drinking-song  of  dazzling  exuber- 
ance. 

It  is  strange  how  universally  successful 
operatic  composers  are  in  the  matter  of 
drinking-songs.  You  can  name  off-hand 
more  popular  chansons  Bacchic  than  any 
other  one  style  of  aria.  There  are  various 
well-known  serenades  and  prayers  and 
spinning-songs,  but  of  drinking-songs  there 
are  any  number.  "  Lucrezia  Borgia,"  "  Rig- 
oletto,"  "Traviata,"  "Huguenots,"  "Caval- 
leria  Rusticana," — their  drinking-songs  are 
heard  every  day  on  the  hand-organs  in  the 
street.  And  so  in  "  Hamlet "  its  drinking- 
song  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  numbers 
of  the  opera.  Its  bubbling  rhythm  and  hi- 
larious melody  are  continued  even  after  the 
song  is  ended  and  the  curtain  descends.  It 
lingers  like  the  effect  of  wine. 

Act  III.  is  the  play  scene.  There  is  a 
small  stage  erected  at  one  side  of  the  spa- 
cious palace  hall,  and  opposite  this  is  a  throne 
for  the  king  and  queen.  The  orchestra 
carries  everything  before  it  with  the  rousing 

156 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Danish  march  which  accompanies  the  cere- 
monious entrance  of  the  entire  court.  This 
composition  ranks  with  the  drinking-song 
in  popularity.  When  all  are  assembled, 
Hamlet  places  himself  in  a  position  to  watch 
the  king,  and  as  the  mimic  play  proceeds 
he  explains  the  action,  which  is  all  in  panto- 
mime. The  orchestral  descriptive  music  of 
this  play  within  a  play  is  beautiful  and  in- 
teresting. As  in  Ophelia's  reading,  the 
simple  melody  and  hesitating  rhythm  again 
convey  the  impression  of  something  in- 
serted, something  apart  from  the  real  action 
of  the  play.  Hamlet  becomes  more  and 
more  excited  as  the  play  goes  on,  for  he 
sees  unmistakable  signs  of  uneasiness  in  the 
king's  expression;  and  when  at  last  the 
mimic  murderer  pours  poison  into  the  ear 
of  his  sleeping  victim,  the  king  rises  in 
anger  and  orders  the  players  away.  Ham- 
let in  a  delirium  of  vengeful  joy  cries 
out  the  king's  guilt.  He  pushes  his  way 
through  the  surrounding  courtiers,  and  with 
unbridled  fury  accuses  the  murderer.     He 

157 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

is  sustained  by  a  perfect  tidal  wave  of 
chords  from  the  orchestra,  which  dash  and 
beat  and  break,  but  only  harm  the  good 
ship  they  bear  instead  of  the  rock  they  at- 
tack. The  people  regard  Hamlet's  charge 
as  an  outburst  of  madness,  and  he  presently 
lends  credence  to  this  belief  by  singing  with 
wild  hilarity  the  drinking-song  of  the  previ- 
ous act.  The  following  strong  and  seething 
chorus  of  dismay  is  again  interrupted  at  the 
very  end  by  Hamlet's  mad  song — 

"Life  is  short  and  death  is  near ; 
We'll  sing  and  drink  while  yet  we  may." 

With  a  wild  mocking  laugh  he  falls  into 
Horatio's  arms  as  the  king  and  court  with- 
draw. 

The  great  feature  of  the  fourth  act  is  the 
scene  between  Hamlet  and  his  mother,  but 
there  is  much  besides.  The  scene  repre- 
sents the  queen's  apartment  in  the  palace, 
and  the  first  number  is  Hamlet's  soliloquy. 
He  blames  himself  and  deems  it  cowardice 
that  he  did  not  strike  the  king  dead  when 

158 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

he  had  the  opportunity.     Then  follows  the 
musical  arrangement  of  "  To  be  or  not  to 
be,"   a   speech    so   unsuited  to  music   that 
Thomas  has  cut   it  down    to  a  few  lines. 
Hamlet  presently  sees  the  king-  approach- 
ing, and  he  conceals  himself  behind  a  cur- 
tain with  the  intention  of  attacking  him. 
But  the  king  thinks  himself  alone,  and  in 
agony  of  mind  he  kneels  on  the  prie-dieu 
and  prays.     It  is  an  impressive  composition, 
this  prayer  with  its  cathedral  harmonies  and 
blending   accompaniment.      Hamlet   glides 
softly  toward  the  door,  for  he  can  not  kill 
even  his  father's  murderer  at  prayer.     The 
king,  who  has  heard  the  footsteps,  cries  out 
in   terror,  for  he  fancies  it  was   the  ghost 
of  his  brother.     Polonius,  the  father  of  Ophe- 
lia, quickly  enters  and  reassures  the  king. 
They  walk  out  arm  in  arm,  and  from  their 
few  words  it  is  gleaned  that  Polonius  was 
an  accomplice  to  the  crime.     Hamlet  hears 
them,  and  is  horrified  to  learn  this  fact  about 
Ophelia's    father.       At    this    moment   the 
queen  and  Ophelia  enter,   and  the  former 

159 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

announces  to  Hamlet  that  it  is  her  wish  as 
well  as  the  king's  that  his  marriage  shall 
take  place  at  once.  The  prince  blankly 
refuses  to  obey  in  spite  of  the  queen's  ur- 
ging ;  but  his  heart  endures  a  struggle  when 
the  poor  Ophelia  sings  of  her  grief  and  re- 
turns to  him  his  ring.  The  sweet  minor 
strain  in  her  song  implies  a  sad  resignation 
that  is  more  touching  than  intense  lamenta- 
tion. She  goes  out  weeping.  The  queen 
then  turns  to  Hamlet  and  upbraids  him  for 
his  faithlessness.  She  presently  recurs  to 
the  terrible  scene;  at  the  play,  and  utters 
the  famous  words,  "Thou  hast  thy  father 
much  offended." 

The  scene  which  follows  demands  great 
dramatic  ability  of  the  queen,  as  well  as 
vocal  strength.  After  a  sharp  and  active 
recitative  dialog,  in  which  Hamlet  announces 
himself  as  her  judge  and  no  longer  her  son, 
she  sings  a  fine  entreaty  that  the  tenderness 
of  the  son  may  mitigate  the  severity  of  the 
judge.     It  is  a  strong  and  powerful  theme, 

but  Hamlet  is  obdurate.     He  contrasts  the 

i6o 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

late  king  with  the  present  one  in  words 
and  tones  that  make  his  mother  cower. 
She  again  pleads  for  mercy  and  forgiveness, 
and  finally  falls  in  a  swoon  as  the  stage  is 
darkened  and  the  ghost  appears.  Hamlet 
trembles  before  this  admonisher.  The 
music  of  the  incantation  is  again  heard,  and 
the  phantom  bids  Hamlet  spare  his  mother, 
but  "fail  not  to  avenge."  As  the  ghost 
disappears  the  instruments  are  weighted 
with  that  great  and  gloomy  theme  of  re- 
venge which  seems  to  descend  and  enwrap 
the  whole  scene  like  a  dark,  heavy  mist. 
The  queen  awakens ;  but  there  is  little  more 
seen  or  heard  before  the  curtain  falls. 

Act  V.  is  known  as  the  Mad  Scene,  one 
of  the  most  beautiful,  most  ideal,  and  most 
difficult  creations  ever  put  upon  the  lyric 
stage.  It  is  seldom  performed,  merely  be- 
cause there  are  few  artists  who  can  ade- 
quately render  its  astonishing  music.  There 
are  other  mad  scenes  in  existence.  The  one 
from  "  Lucia  di  Lammermoor  "  is  very  cele- 
brated, but  its  music  no  more  expresses  the 
II  i6i 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

vagaries  of  madness  than  does  any  other 
florid  aria.  Of  course,  lavish  colorature 
seems  appropriate  and  is  considered  impera- 
tive; but  Donizetti's  florid  fancies  are  mere 
plumes  and  flounces  draped  upon  a  melody, 
whereas  with  Thomas  these  form  the  texture 
of  the  theme.  The  French  composer  well 
knows  the  worth  of  his  mad  music,  and  he 
has  taken  pains  to  present  it  most  advan- 
tageously. You  are  not  ushered  at  once 
from  the  grim  and  gruesome  harmonies  of 
the  last  act  to  this  wealth  of  inspiration,  but 
are  first  entertained  by  a  ballet  of  shepherds 
and  shepherdesses."  During  this  dance  we 
become  accustomed  to  the  beautiful  rural 
landscape,  the  gentle  stream  at  the  back  and 
the  drooping  willows.  We  are  also  brought 
under  the  spell  of  a  different  kind  of  music; 
these  pastoral  ballet  motifs  are  very  charm- 
ing. They  are  light  and  fantastic,  but  at 
the  same  time  suggest  a  midsummer  peace 
and  tranquillity. 

At  last  the  dainty  dance  is  ended,  and 

then  the  rustic  group  perceive   a   strange 

162 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

figure  approaching — a  beautiful  maid,  with 
her  flowing  hair  adorned  with  bits  of  straw 
and  wild  flowers.  Her  white  dress  is  torn, 
and  her  bare  arms  carry  a  straggling  bunch 
of  flowers  which  she  plays  with  and  caresses. 
That  exquisite  inquiring  little  introduction 
which  we  heard  in  the  first  act  again  an- 
nounces the  entrance  of  Ophelia.  She 
glances  a  moment  at  the  pretty  peasants, 
and  then,  with  intuitive  politeness,  asks  per- 
mission to  join  in  their  sport.  There  is  a 
subtle  pathos  about  this  first  little  phrase, 
which  is  sung  without  accompaniment,  and 
is  simple  as  a  child's  question.  She  goes 
on  to  tell  them  how  she  left  the  palace  at 
dawn  and  no  one  has  followed.  "The  tears 
of  night  were  still  on  the  ground  and  the 
lark  poured  forth  its  morning  song."  A 
perfect  bird-throat  warble  of  trills  and  flut- 
tering staccatos  follows  this  memory  of  the 
lark.  But  her  thoughts  are  varied,  and  she 
suddenly  turns  and  asks:  '*Why  do  you 
whisper  to  each  other?      Don't  you  know 

me?     Hamlet  is  my  betrothed,  and  I — I  am 

163 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Ophelia."  Then  she  tells  them,  in  tones 
that  rest  upon  the  accompaniment  like  lilies 
on  a  lake,  how  Hamlet  vowed  to  always  love 
her  and  that  she  has  given  him  her  heart 
in  exchange.  "  If  any  one  should  tell  you 
that  he  will  leave  and  forget  me,  do  not  be- 
lieve it.  Believe  nothing  they  tell  you,  for 
Hamlet  is  my  betrothed,  and  I — I  am 
Ophelia."  But  in  spite  of  this  assertion  of 
Hamlet's  faith,  there  is  throughout  all  the 
music  a  ring  of  perpetual  pain.  She  clasps 
her  hand  to  her  head  with  terror,  and  ex- 
claims :  "  If  he  were  false  I  think  I  should 
lose  my  reason!  " 

The  flowers  again  hold  her  attention,  and 
she  plays  with  them  as  the  orchestra  com- 
mences a  ravishing  waltz  theme.  She  at 
first  pays  little  heed  to  the  music,  but  its 
gay  melody  at  last  drifts  to  her  soul  and 
finds  immediate  expression.  The  difficult 
phrases  fall  from  her  lips  like  petals  from  a 
flower.  Gleeful  chromatics  and  happy  trills 
are  also  thrown  in,  and  we  would  soon  for- 
get it  was  the  sad  Ophelia  did  she  not  sud- 

164 


L.        rr-» 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

Calve  as  Ophelia  in  "  Hamlet.'' 


C    <- 

c 
c  c 


1 1 
c  t 


STARS    OE   THE   OPERA. 

denly  tire  of  this  extravagant  virtuosity. 
She  turns  to  the  shepherds  and  bids  them 
harken  to  the  song  she  will  sing.  Then 
follows  a  ballad  whose  moaning,  minor  har- 
monies sound  like  a  sighing  breeze.  It  is 
about  the  sirens  beneath  the  water  who  lure 
men  to  its  glassy  depths.  The  wearied, 
worried  mind  of  the  mad  girl  now  revels  in 
a  wild,  merry  laugh,  which  is  as  quickly 
followed  by  passionate  sobs ;  but  she  finall)'' 
remembers  to  finish  her  song  about  the 
siren.  This  strange,  sad  melody  possesses 
a  weird  charm  that  is  irresistible.  Again 
she  breaks  into  hilarious  laughter  and  un- 
controlled weeping.  Grief  without  hope 
and  joy  without  memory  alternate  in  rapid 
succession.  The  music  of  this  portion  de- 
fies description.  It  is  a  perfect  confla- 
gration of  impossible  staccatos  and  scales. 
With  one  last  sweeping  chromatic  run,  that 
rushes  like  the  whistling  wind  from  low 
D  to  high  E,  Ophelia  kneels  down  with 
her  flowers  and  thinks  only  of  them. 
The   peasants   retire   from  the   scene,   and 

i6s 


STARS    OF   THE    OPERA. 

the   orchestra   take    up    fragments  of    the 

waltz. 

They    play    for    some    moments,    while 

Ophelia  contentedly  rearranges  her  bouquet. 

But  presently   a   wonderful  change  comes 

over  the  music.     We  hear  only  the  string 

instruments  and  flute,  and  soon  these,  too, 

are  hushed,  while  out  of  the  air  a  magical 

song  arises.     It  is  the  siren's  ballad,  faint 

as  a  vision  but  with  full  harmonies.     Thomas 

has  produced  this  effect  of  dream-music  by 

having  the  chorus  sing  behind  the  scenes 

with  closed  mouth:     This  soft  humming  of 

a  hidden  chorus  well  resembles  the  buried 

voices  of  water-nymphs.     Ophelia  at  once 

recognizes  the  song,  and  she  is  drawn  by 

the   music  toward   the   stream,   where  she 

hopes  to  see  the  sirens.     All  unconscious, 

she  pushes  her  way  through  the  rushes  and 

reeds  on  the  bank.     The  chorus  has  ceased, 

and  only  the  tender,  liquid  tones  of  the  harp 

now  fill  the  air.     Ophelia  steps  too  far  and 

soon  falls  into  the  "weeping  brook."     Her 

dress  bears  her  up  for  a  time,  and  we  hear 

i66 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

her  sweetly  singing  as  she  floats  down  the 
stream.  It  is  no  longer  the  ballad  or  the 
gay  waltz,  but  quite  another  theme  to  which 
her  memory  now  clings.  It  is  Hamlet's 
glorious  vow — 

•*  Doubt  that  the  sun  doth  move, 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar, 
But  never  doubt  I  love. " 

Ophelia  ends  her  song  with  a  lingering 
high  note  of  such  silvery  beauty  that  it 
seems  like  a  far-away  star  in  the  dark  night 
of  death. 


167 


A  Talk 
with 

Lillian  Nordica. 


"  ■»  -> 


>     >      ^      ■ 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

LILLIAN   NORDICA, 


A   TALK    WITH    LILLIAN   NORDICA. 

It  was  during  one  of  Patti's  farewell  sea- 
sons at  the  old  Academy  of  Music  that  a 
young  American  girl,  by  the  name  of  Lillian 
Norton,  first  appeared  as  a  prima  donna. 
She  made  a  success,  but  not  a  sensation,  for 
she  had  not  then  the  halo  of  a  European 
glory,  and  people  were  in  those  days  too 
intent  on  the  passing  star  to  note  any  rising 
one. 

But  later  on,  when  she  Italianized  her 
name,  they  applauded  the  same  voice  more 
loudly,  tho  their  attention  was  still  more 
directed  to  the  foreign  artists  who  appeared 
every  year. 

The  American  girl   all   this   time  never 

relaxed    her    determination,    but    kept    on 

working  with  a  will,    learning  roles  there 

was  no  prospect  of  using,  and  studying  all 

things  in  her  line.     At  last  she  was  engaged 

171 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

by  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Company;  but 
her  name  was  not  printed  at  the  top  of  the 
list,  and  she  was  not  held  out  as  the  magnet 
to  fill  the  house  on  the  opening  night.  In 
the  end,  tho,  she  sang  oftener  than  any 
of  the  other  sopranos,  for  when  they  were 
indisposed  she  it  was  that  always  came  for- 
ward. There  was  never  a  role  she  could  not 
sijzgy  and  never  a  time  she  was  not  ready.  • 

The  dormant  appreciation  of  her  country- 
men became  at  last  thoroughly  aroused. 
Since  then  her  success  has  swept  onward 
with  unabating  force.  The  following  season 
in  New  York  the  enthusiasm  she  inspired 
was  so  great  that  one  large  club  of  opera- 
goers  presented  her  with  a  diamond  tiara, 
and  the  people  that  year  had  to  stand  in 
line  when  buying  seats  to  hear  Madame 
Ivillian  Nordica. 

The    Waldorf-Astoria,    where    she    lives 

when  in  New  York,  is  quite  a  contrast  to 

the  humble  New  England  home  in  Farm- 

ington.    Me.,    where   she  was  born.     This 

hotel  is  a  city  in  itself,  and  the  visitor  who 

172 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

inquires  for  some  distinguished  resident 
is  conducted  personally  along  the  marble 
avenues  and  carpeted  byways  and  through 
the  beautiful  "palm-garden."  The  door  of • 
Madame  Nordica's  apartment  was  opened 
by  a  white-capped  maid,  who  seated  the 
caller  and  then  left  the  room.  It  was  the 
day  of  the  blizzard,  and  from  this  sixth- 
floor  elevation  the  snow-storm  without  was 
of  superb  fury.  It  battered  against  the 
window  as  tho  maddened  by  the  sight  within 
of  the  prima  donna's  cosy  parlor,  of  the 
shaded  electric  lights,  the  wide-open  grand 
piano,  and  the  numerous  long-stemmed 
roses,  in  various  tall  jars,  fragrant  and 
peaceful  as  a  summer's  day.  Through  the 
silken  draperies  of  a  doorway  could  be  heard 
the  sound  of  voices,  of  occasional  laughter, 
and  then — a  scale,  a  trill,  and  a  soft  high 
note.  It  was  an  exquisite  grand-opera 
effect  with  the  whistling  storm  by  way  of 
orchestral  accompaniment. 

Soon  the  curtains  were  parted  and  Madame 
Nordica  entered — a  woman  of  regal  height 

173 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

and  figure,  but  with  manners  thoroughly 
American  and  democratic. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  came  through 
all  this  storm  to  see  me !  You  are  certainly 
very  brave."  These  were  her  first  words; 
then  she  drew  up  a  comfortable  chair,  and 
added :  "  Well,  it's  just  the  sort  of  day  to 
talk  and  take  things  easy." 

Madame  Nordica's  tones  convey  even 
more  than  her  words,  for  her  voice  is  notice- 
ably beautiful  in  conversation.  It  is  fasci- 
nating in  its  variety,  its  softness,  and  its 
purity.  Her  face  is  also  very  expressive, 
as  well  as  beautiful,  with  a  complexion  re- 
markably fine,  teeth  of  absolute  perfection, 
and  thoughtful  blue  eyes  set  well  apart. 

She  wore  a  house-gown  of  pale,  clinging 
blue  silk,  and,  with  the  exception  of  her 
wedding  ring,  had  on  no  jewelry. 

She  told  first  of  her  birthplace  and  home. 

"  I  was  the  sixth  girl,  and  I  think  my 
parents  were  rather  tired  out  by  the  time  I 
came.     I  wasn't  even  baptized !  "     Then  she 

talked  of  her  work. 

174 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

"  I  studied  first  in  Boston,  and  sang  there 
in  church;  but  I  made  my  concert  debut 
here  in  New  York  with  Gilmore  at  the  old 
Madison  Square  Garden.  He  took  me  with 
him  afterward  to  Europe.  When  I  returned 
to  America  I  sang  in  all  the  Italian  operas, 
especially  Verdi's." 

Madame  Nordica  still  holds  to-day  a 
supreme  place  as  a  singer  of  the  Italian 
school,  altho  her  greatest  fame  has  been 
won  in  the  Wagner  roles. 

When  asked  if  she  had  ever  met  Verdi, 
the  singer  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  I  met  him  in  Italy,  but  only  once.  I 
was  much  better  acquainted  with  Gounod, 
and  also  the  modern  composers,  Leoncavallo, 
Mascagni,  etc.,  but  now  I  devote  my  chief 
time  to  Wagner." 

This  led  to  inquiries  about  Madame 
Cosima  Wagner. 

"  Ah,  I  lived  right  with  her  for  three 
months,  and  it  was  a  great  privilege  for  me. 
Her  husband's  music  is  to  her  like  her  very 
eyes.    She  taught  me  the  German  and  helped 

175 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

me  in  every  way.  '  Lohengrin  '  had  never 
been  sung  in  Baireiith,  and  I  was  to  create 
there  the  role  of  Elsa." 

A  remarkable  honor  this  was,  indeed :  to 
be  the  first  Elsa  in  Wagner's  own  temple, 
under  the  guidance  of  his  own  wife,  with 
the  grave  of  the  great  composer  fairly  in 
sight,  and  memories  of  the  "  Mad  King  "  on 
all  sides — the  king  whose  ears  were  deaf  to 
the  functions  of  state,  but  open  to  the  art 
of  heaven. 

"  It  was  a  great  opportunity  for  me,  but  I 
sometimes  thought  I  would  have  to  give  it 
up.  Oh!  I  have  been  so  discouraged!  I 
have  wept  barrels  of  tears  !  " 

This  is  a  kind  message  for  the  great  singer 
to  send  to  the  many  struggling  aspirants 
who  may  to-day  be  working  under  discour- 
agement. 

Madame    Nordica   insists   that  "work   is 

everything.     The  voice  is  but  the  material ; 

it  is  the  stone  from  which  the  cathedral  is 

built." 

After  her  great  success  in  Baireuth,  the 

176 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

American  prima  donna  sang  Elsa  in  New 
York. 

"  But  I  had  to  sing  again  in  Italian,  for 
the  rest  of  the  company  had  not  learned  the 
German.  It  was  through  my  efforts  that 
they  have  since  studied  these  roles  in  the 
original,  and  we  now  sing  all  the  Wagner 
operas  in  German." 

It  was  a  great  musical  event  when  Jean 
de  Reszke  and  Madame  Nordica  appeared 
as  Tristan  and  Isolde.  This  love-tragedy 
done  in  music  is  perhaps  the  most  profound 
of  all  operas.  It  is  somber  with  sorrow 
throughout ;  even  the  great  love-duet  in  the 
second  act  is  too  intense  and  grand  in  its 
motifs  ever  to  be  called  happy.  It  is  not 
the  joyous  emotion  of  youth,  but  the  fervor 
of  maturity,  where  life  itself  is  staked  for  a 
mighty  love.  This  second  act  is  a  wondous 
musical  scene.  It  is  in  the  moonlit  gardens 
of  the  Cornish  castle  where  Tristan  and 
Isolde  meet  clandestinely,  while  Bragaende, 
the  faithful  attendant,  keeps  watch  in  the 
tower  above.     She  is  not  seen,  but  the  calm 

12  177 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

sustained  tones  of  her  watch-tower  song  soar 
out  in  contrast  to  the  intense  love-music 
like  a  beacon-light  on  a  turbulent  sea. 

Another  very  popular  role  of  Madame 
Nordica's,  tho  altogether  different  in  style, 
is  Valentine  in  "The  Huguenots."  Her 
sustained  and  crescendoed  high  C  in  the 
third  act  of  this  opera  is  worth  a  long  jour- 
ney to  hear.  Madame  Fursch-Madi  in  years 
agone  used  to  sing  this  role  very  grandly, 
but  she  was  plain  of  feature ;  whereas  with 
Madame  Nordica  her  Valentine  is  so  beauti- 
ful to  behold  that  the  audience  is  aroused  to 
greatest  sympathy  with  the  hero's  struggle 
between  love  and  duty. 

"Our  art  is  so  very  legitimate,"  Madame 

Nordica     thoughtfully     remarked.       "The 

painter  or  the  writer  can  take  advice,  can 

be  assisted,   and  has  time  to  consider  his 

work;  but  we  must  face  the  music  alone,  at 

the  point  of  the  bayonet  as  it  were,  for  every 

tone  must  come  at  the  right  moment  and 

on  the  right  pitch.     The  actress  has  neither 

of  these  requirements  to  meet.     It  is  very 

178 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

trying,  also,  to  sing  one  night  in  German 
and  the  next  time  in  some  other  language. 
Indeed,  every  performance  is  a  creation. 
No  wonder  we  are  so  insistent  on  the  ap- 
plause, A  painter  or  writer  can  say  to  him- 
self, if  his  work  is  not  at  first  well  received, 
'  Just  wait  till  I  am  dead !  '  But  our  fate 
and  fame  are  decided  on  the  spot." 

Madame  Nordica  grew  enthusiastic  as  she 
talked,  and  her  face  was  all  animation. 

"  It  is  easy  to  criticize  us,  but  hard  for  an 
outsider  to  appreciate  the  difficulties  of  our 
art.  No  one  is  in  a  place  he  does  not  de- 
serve— at  least  not  for  any  length  of  time. 
And  I  believe,  too,  that  no  one  lacks  for 
opportunity.  When  people  say,  So-and-so 
has  a  beautiful  voice,  and  ought  to  be  on 
the  Metropolitan  stage,  just  inquire  what 
that  person  can  do.  Very  likely  she  only 
knows  one  language,  and  probably  can  not 
sing  a  single  act  of  one  opera  straight 
through.  Why  should  she  be  on  the  Metro- 
politan stage?     A  girl  came  to  me  not  long 

ago  who  had  been  singing  with  some  Eng- 

179 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

lish  opera  company.  She  had  a  beautiful 
voice  and  said  she  could  sing  everything, 
which  I  found  to  be  true.  I  asked  why  she 
did  not  go  to  Mr.  Grau,  and  she  replied, 
quite  disheartened,  that  he  would  do  noth- 
ing for  her.  Then  I  asked,  '  Are  you  ready 
for  anything  ?  I  feel  quite  sure  he  could  use 
you  now  as  the  page  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet. "  ' 
'  Oh,  I  wouldn't  sing  a  secondary  role !  '  she 
quickly  exclaimed.  Now  that  girl  makes  a 
great  mistake.  To  sing  well  one  beautiful 
aria  on  the  same  stage  with  such  artists  as 
the  two  De  Reszkes  and  Madame  Melba 
would  do  her  more  good  than  to  sing  the 
first  roles  in  a  poor  company." 

Madame  Nordica  spoke  very  earnestly  as 
she  related  this  story  of  a  lost  opportunity, 
which  so  plainly  points  its  own  moral.  An- 
other incident  she  told  gives  the  reverse  side 
of  the  same  idea : 

"  I  remember  one  day  some  singers  were 
discussing  another  m.ember  of  their  com- 
pany, and  claiming  that  he  did  not  deserve 

his  high  position;  but  I  protested,  and  said: 

i8o 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

'  Just  consider  what  that  man  can  do.  He 
knows  every  language,  has  a  fine  stage 
presence,  a  good  voice,  and  can  sing  every 
role  in  the  repertoire.  Now  where  will  you 
get  another  to  fill  his  place?  ' 

"Our  art  to-day  is  very  different  from 
what  it  used  to  be.  People  wonder  who 
will  replace  Patti  or  some  other  retiring 
singer ;  but  if  one  should  appear  who  ade- 
quately filled  the  vacant  place,  we  would  at 
once  hear  people  saying,  '  She  only  sings 
colorature  roles  and  nothing  but  Italian !  ' 
No,  the  great  artist  to-day  is  the  one  who 
has  mastered  all,  who  does  the  work  of 
three  in  former  years,  and  not  one  who 
shines  forth  temporarily  in  a  few  special 
roles." 

Madame  Nordica  can  certainly  speak  with 

authority  on  this  point,  for  she  is  one  whom 

we  may  truly  say  has  "mastered  all."     Her 

repertoire    is  astonishing  in   its  scope   and 

variety ;  and  when  we  consider  that  out  of 

eighty-seven  million  people,   which    is  our 

present  population,  including  the  colonies, 

i8i 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

she  is  the  only  one  to-day  who  sings  the 
three  "  Briinhildes  "  of  Wagner  and  also  his 
"Isolde,"  we  can  then  better  appreciate 
Madame  Nordica's  achievement.  It  needs 
a  very  great  mind  to  grasp  and  portray 
these  Wagnerian  creations.  Briinhilde,  the 
war  goddess,  must  be  both  tender  and 
heroic — as  it  were,  divinely  human.  No 
composer  but  Wagner  could  have  imparted 
these  qualities;  but  he  was  himself  a  sort 
of  musical  Jove,  who  wielded  the  scale  like 
a  thunderbolt.  If  any  one  doubt  this,  let 
him  hear  and  behold  the  wonderful  "  Ride 
of  the  Walkiire,"  those  five  war  maidens, 
daughters  of  Wotan,  who  chase  through  the 
clouds  on  their  armored  steeds,  and  call  one 
another  in  tones  unearthly,  to  an  accom- 
paniment of  whizzing  strings,  and  clang- 
ing brass,  and  a  torrent  of  intricate  chords. 
The  music  depicts  the  fierce  clash  of  the 
elements,  the  war  gods  in  battle,  the  clamor 
of  shields,  and  the  furious  dash  of  wild 
horses.     Above  it  all  there  rings  out  on  the 

air  the  weird,  far-reaching  cry  of  Briinhilde, 

182 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y 

Nordica  as  Brunhilde  in  "  Siegfried." 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  leader  of  the  Walkiire  maidens,  and  her 
call  is  repeated  from  the  East,  from  the 
West,  from  the  uttermost  mountain-peaks, 
by  her  sister  spirits,  who  are  sometimes 
hidden  and  sometimes  revealed  by  the  fast- 
rushing  clouds,  through  which  their  steeds 
gallop  and  plunge. 

Whoever  can  hear  this  wonder-work  and 
not  bow  to  Wagner's  greatness  is  surely  a 
musical  degenerate. 

"  My  progress  has  not  been  by  leaps  and 
bounds,"  Madame  Nordica  presently  an- 
nounced; "it  has  been  more  tortoise-like; 
and  I  have  sometimes  seen  others  sweep 
past  me  with  apparently  little  effort.  But 
in  the  end  justice  comes  around  to  all. 
What  is  it  Mrs.  Carter  says  in  '  Zaza  '  about 
success?  '  It  comes  from  much  misery.' 
Yes,  there  is  very  much  of  that.  '  And 
much  work,' — ah,  a  g-?'caf  deal  of  that. 
'And  a  little  luck,' — yes,  a  very  little  of 
that;  it  is  not  good  to  have  much  luck." 

As  I  arose  to  go,  Madame  Nordica  added 
with  a  smile :   "  You  see  I  could  talk  on  this 

183 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

subject  all  day.  The  sum  of  it  is,  success 
comes  from  steady  daily  work.  You  must 
work  well  in  the  morning,  and  then  work 
some  more  in  the  afternoon — and  it  is  well 
to  practise  between  times  too !  " 


184 


"Lohengrin." 


"LOHENGRIN." 

There   seems   a   very   magic   about  the 
name   of    Lohengrin — a  mythical   strength 
and   beauty   that  at  once   characterize   the 
whole  opera.    The  fault  is  occasionally  found 
that  Wagner's  operas  are  long  and  at  times 
tedious ;  but  this  term  is  never  applied  to 
"  Lohengrin."     One  is  disarmed  of  this  sus- 
picion in  the  very  first  prelude.     Ah,  what 
a  prelude  is  that!     It  is  like  the  gradual 
drawing  together  from  empty  space  all  the 
music  of  the  spheres.     The  two  first  meas- 
ures are  so  pianissimo  that  we  scarcely  hear 
them,   but  the  vague  and   far-away  voices 
come   slowly   nearer.      They    mingle   with 
each    other   and    weave    in    and   out,    until 
there  is  a  crescendo  mighty  and  overpower- 
ing.    We  are  now  prepared  for  the  legen- 
dary character   of   the   opera;    such  music 
could  not  represent  things  earthly. 

The  curtain  rises  upon  a  scene  of  medi- 

187 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

eval  coloring.  It  is  a  woodland  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Scheldt  in  the  province  of 
Brabant.  A  throne  is  erected  on  one  side, 
and  here  the  king  of  Germany  is  holding 
court.  He  is  visiting  this  province  of  his 
realm  to  solicit  aid  in  a  coming  war.  After 
this  fact  is  announced  by  the  herald,  the 
king  arises  and  in  stately  phrases  greets 
the  people  and  explains  more  fully  the  ob- 
ject of  his  visit.  He  closes  with  the  obser- 
vation that  it  grieves  him  to  find  this  prov- 
ince in  a  state  of  discord,  and  he  requests 
Frederick  of  Telramund,  an  esteemed  noble- 
man of  Brabant,  to  recount  the  situation. 

Frederick,  which  is  the  baritone  role,  tells 
a  strange  and  interesting  story.  The  prov- 
ince is  at  present  without  any  ducal  ruler, 
owing  to  the  recent  mysterious  disappear- 
ance of  the  young  heir.  He  was  last  seen 
in  company  with  his  sister  Elsa.  The  two 
were  walking  in  the  forest,  but  she  returned 
alone  and  declared  she  had  lost  her  brother. 
Frederick  now  charges  Elsa  with  murder, 

and    furthermore  lays  claim    to    the    ducal 

i88 


STARS    OF   THE  OPERA. 

throne  in  the  name  of  himself  and  also  his 
wife  Ortrud,  who  bears  some  kinship  to  the 
late  duke. 

On  hearing  this  charge  the  king  sum- 
mons Elsa,  who  presently  comes  forward 
with  bowed  head  and  sorrowful  mien.  This 
must  have  been  a  thrilling  moment  at  that 
first  performance  in  Baireuth  when  Lillian 
Nordica  stepped  before  the  audience.  It 
was  not  only  Elsa  challenging  her  accusers, 
but  an  American  girl  challenging  German 
critics  under  the  dome  of  their  most  hallowed 
shrine,  with  their  own  music  and  in  their 
own  language.  But  whatever  a  singer's 
emotions  may  be,  she  must  give  no  evi- 
dence of  them.  It  is  wonderful  how 
smoothly  these  great  performances  always 
run.     Come  what  may,  the  play  goes  on. 

Elsa  can  say  no  more  in  her  behalf  than 

has  already  been  given ;  but  when  urged  by 

the  king  to  speak  freely  all  that  is  on  her 

heart,  she  tells  of  a  wonderful  vision  which 

came  in  her  hour  of  distress.     An  armored 

knight,  more  grand  than  any  she  had  seen, 

189 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

appeared  to  her  and  promised  to  be  her 
deliverer  and  champion.  This  dream-song 
of  Elsa's  is  like  a  musical  apparition,  so 
ethereal  and  spirituelle ;  but  one  must  not 
seek  for  these  wonderful  beauties  in  the 
voice-part  alone.  With  Wagner  the  or- 
chestra is  never  a  mere  accompaniment,  but 
more  often  the  principal  part.  A  theme  is 
sometimes  begun  in  the  orchestra  and 
finished  by  the  voice,  or  it  may  be  alto- 
gether with  the  instruments.  Wagner 
handles  the  voice  like  a  noble  metal  which 
can  be  fashioned  into  useful  vessels  to  carry 
and  convey  the  emotions,  in  contrast  to  the 
Italian  composers,  who  look  upon  the  voice 
as  a  jewel  to  be  displayed  and  admired  for 
its  own  sake. 

To  return  to  Elsa's  song.  It  should  be 
understood  from  the  first  that  each  theme 
in  the  opera  expresses  some  emotion  or  idea 
which  is  consistently  adhered  to  through- 
out. For  instance,  when  Elsa  describes  the 
knight  in  her  dream,  there  is  heard  in  the 

orchestra  a  few  bars  of  the  Lohengrin-  or 

190 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

swan-song,  a  theme  which  is  constantly 
revealing  itself  in  this  great  kaleidoscope 
of  sound  whenever  the  hero  appears  or  is 
mentioned.  Again,  when  she  speaks  of  his 
glittering  armor,  the  splendid  warlike  motif 
which  asserts  itself  is  the  same  one  that 
is  worked  up  in  the  crescendo  preceding 
Lohengrin's  arrival. 

After  this  strange  recital  of  Elsa's,  Fred- 
erick still  maintains  his  charge  against  her, 
and  states  as  her  motive  for  the  crime  that 
she  hoped  to  gain  the  throne.  The  king 
decides  to  settle  the  question  by  single 
combat.  Frederick  must  defend  himself 
against  whomever  may  come  forward  as 
Elsa's  champion.  This  custom  is  according 
to  the  ancient  belief  that  "might  is  right," 
and  that  Heaven  itself  is  the  awarder  of 
victory  and  defeat.  The  herald  of  the 
king  announces,  with  a  trumpet-call,  the 
impending  combat,  and  bids  "  him  who  will 
fight  for  Elsa  of  Brabant  to  come  forth 
at  once."     The  call  dies  away,  but  no  one 

presents  himself   as   her   defender,   and   it 

191 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

appears  as  tho  Heaven  already  indicates 
which  side  is  right.  Elsa  piteously  begs 
them  to  call  again.  Her  wish  is  granted, 
and  once  more  the  cry  rings  forth.  She 
falls  on  her  knees,  and  in  tones  that  vibrate 
with  intense  despair  prays  Heaven  to  send 
her  the  hero  of  her  dream.  "  Elsa's  prayer  " 
and  "  Elsa's  dream "  are  two  of  the  most 
beautiful  soprano  solos  in  the  opera.  The 
prayer  is  short,  but  it  accomplishes  a  thrill- 
ing crescendo.  The  final  climax  is  such  a 
passionate  outcry  that  we  are  not  surprised 
to  see  an  immediate  answer  granted. 

Wagner  is  a  master  of  crescendos,  and  he 
now  commences  one  for  the  chorus  which  is 
truly  wonderful  in  effect.  Instead  of  start- 
ing all  the  voices  pianissimo,  or  even  part 
of  the  chorus,  he  starts  with  a  single  voice. 
One  man  has  perceived  a  knight  floating 
down  the  river  in  a  boat  drawn  by  a  swan. 
He  whispers  it  to  his  neighbor,  who  in 
turn  says,  "  Look  !  "  and  then  another  and 
another  in  quick  succession  join  in  exclama- 
tions, until  all  are  singing  of  the  strange 

192 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

sight.  They  rush  to  the  bank,  and  still  the 
wonder  grows.  The  knight  of  the  swan 
draws  nearer,  the  orchestra  crashes  out  its 
stupendous  theme,  the  sopranos  ring  out 
above  everything,  and  the  whole  chorus 
seems  to  have  doubled  its  capacity.  It  is  a 
greeting  worthy  of  the  subject,  who  is 
Lohengrin  himself. 

No  wonder  the  people  subside  and  look 
at  him  with  awe  as  he  steps  upon  the  bank. 
He  is  clad  in  shining  silver,  with  a  helmet, 
shield,  and  sword.  His  face  is  fair  and  his 
hair  is  blonde.  Before  noticing  the  people, 
he  turns  to  the  swan  and  sings  it  a  farewell. 
This  song  is  only  two  lines  long,  and  for 
the  most  part  without  accompaniment.  It 
is  apparently  simple,  and  differs  little  from 
the  form  of  a  recitative,  and  yet  so  rare  and 
strange  is  this  melody  that  it  portrays  the 
legendary  character  of  the  opera  more  than 
any  other  phrase.  It  seems  as  tho  Lohen- 
grin is  still  singing  in  the  mystical  language 
and  music  of  that  other  world  from  which 
he  has  come.  Every  one  knows  this  song 
13  193 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

by  its  German  name,  "  Mein  lieberSchwan," 
and  it  is  so  much  admired  and  so  famous 
that  it  is  actually  paraphrased.  A  man 
must  be  great  indeed  to  be  caricatured; 
how  much  more  is  this  true  of  classical 
music! 

Lohengrin  soon  comes  forward  and  bows 
before  the  king,  after  which  he  announces 
that  he  has  been  sent  as  champion  "  for  a 
noble  maid  who  is  falsely  accused."  But 
before  entering  the  combat  he  speaks  to 
Elsa,  who  has  previously  ojffered  to  bestow 
her  hand  and  heart  upon  whomever  would 
fight  for  her.  She  now  reiterates  this  vow 
most  gladly,  and  also  makes  another  promise 
which  the  strange  knight  requests — she 
must  never  ask  from  whence  he  came,  nor 
what  his  name.  Lest  there  be  any  misun- 
derstanding, he  repeats  the  impressive 
phrase  in  a  higher  key,  and  Elsa  again 
promises.  This  short  theme  is  most  im- 
portant. It  might  be  described  as  the  dark 
motif.       It   is    the   one    most   often   heard 

when  Ortrud  and   Frederick  do  their  evil 

194 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

plotting,  for  it  is  by  means  of  this  interdic- 
tion of  Lohengrin's  that  they  eventually  vsuc- 
ceed  in  accomplishing  Elsa's  unhappiness. 

When  the  two  combatants  face  each  other 
and  all  is  ready,  the  herald  again  comes 
forward  and  solemnly  proclaims  the  rules 
governing  such  contests.  They  are  inter- 
testinof  to  note :  "  No  one  shall  interfere  with 
the  fight  under  penalty  of  losing  his  head 
or  his  hand;  "  and  furthermore,  no  sorcery 
or  witchcraft  shall  be  exerted,  for  Heaven 
alone  must  decide  who  is  right.  After  this 
preliminary  the  king  arises  and  prays 
for  the  just  judgment  of  Heaven  to  clearly 
show  which  side  is  true  and  which  is  false. 
Wagner  always  favored  the  bass  voice  when 
possible,  and  so  he  has  given  to  the  king 
this  splendid  and  impressive  composition, 
with  its  rich,  full  chords  and  stirring  rhythm. 
The  chorus  takes  up  the  prayer  and  finishes 
it  with  inspiring  breadth  and  grandeur. 
The  king  strikes  upon  his  shield  three 
times  and  the  battle  begins.  It  does  not 
last  long,    for  Frederick   is  soon   disarmed 

195 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

and  thrown  down  by  Lohengrin,  who,  how- 
ever, spares  his  life. 

The  victory  has  proven  Elsa's  innocence 
and  Frederick's  falsehood.  The  latter  is 
disgraced  utterly,  while  Lohengrin  is  re- 
garded as  Heaven's  favorite.  Elsa  sings 
forth  her  joy  and  gratitude  in  melodic 
phrases  which  would  need  no  words.  The 
music  of  Elsa  and  Lohengrin  is  like  the 
music  of  day — it  is  so  clear,  so  lucid  and 
full  of  melody  in  contrast  to  the  rugged, 
weird,  and  gloomy  themes  of  Ortrud  and 
Frederick. 

The  great  chorus  of  victory  is  the  last 
number  of  this  act.  It  brings  in  with 
Wagner's  inimitable  modulations  the  martial 
theme  of  the  previous  chorus  and  also  Elsa's 
song  of  praise.  All  excepting  Ortrud  and 
Frederick  look  happy  and  join  in  the  sing- 
ing right  heartily  as  the  curtain  descends. 

The  second  act  comprises  Ortrud 's  great 
scene.  This  role  may  be  sung  by  a  con- 
tralto, but  is  better  adapted  to  a  mezzo- 
soprano.     Ortrud  is  often  called  the  operatic 

196 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Lady  Macbeth.  She  is  not  only  as  wicked 
and  ambitious  as  Shakespeare's  heroine, 
but  is  also  a  sorceress  of  no  mean  ability, 
for  it  is  she  who  made  away  with  Elsa's 
brother ;  but  this  fact  is  not  revealed  until 
the  last  act.  She  also  exerted  her  power 
upon  Frederick  with  such  effect  that  he  be- 
lieved her  to  be  a  prophetess.  He  was 
sincere  in  his  accusation  against  Elsa,  for 
Ortrud  told  him  she  had  witnessed  the  crime 
herself.  But  he  is  now  awakened  to  her 
wickedness,  and  the  scene  opens  with  his 
maledictions  against  her  and  his  abject 
wretchedness  over  his  own  disgrace.  The 
two  are  seated  upon  the  church  steps  facing 
the  palace,  where  jubilant  preparations  are 
going  on  for  the  wedding  of  Elsa  and  Lo- 
hengrin, which  will  take  place  at  dawn.  It 
is  yet  night,  and  the  music  is  deep  and 
ominous.  The  dark  motif  and  a  new  one 
which  seems  to  represent  Ortrud  are  the 
musical  heart  and  soul  of  this  scene.  They 
stalk     about     the    orchestra     like    restless 

phantoms,   and    are   heard  in   all   sorts  of 

197 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

keys  and  instruments.  After  Frederick's 
great  harangue  against  his  wife  and  fate 
and  everything,  she  calmly  inquires  the 
cause  of  his  anger.  She  declares  that  she 
never  deceived  him,  and  that  the  recent 
combat  was  unfairly  influenced  by  Lohen- 
grin's sorcery.  Such  is  her  power  over 
Frederick  that  he  again  believes  and  listens 
to  her  plans.  She  explains  how  Lohengrin 
may  yet  be  robbed  of  his  power  and  Fred- 
erick's honor  vindicated.  Elsa  must  be 
induced  to  ask  the  hero  his  name,  or  he 
must  be  wounded,  be  it  ever  so  slightly. 
Either  of  these  methods  will  annihilate  his 
power.  This  remarkable  scene  closes  with 
a  duet  about  revenge,  which  the  two  voices 
sing  in  unison — a  point  indicative  of  their 
renewed  unity  of  purpose. 

The  music  now  changes  to  harmonies  that 
charm  and  soothe,  and  Elsa  appears  upon 
the  balcony  of  her  palace.  The  moonlight 
falls  upon  her  as  she  clasps  her  hands  in 
ratpure  and  sings  to  the  gentle  zephyrs  of 

her  love.     It  is  a  song  as  peaceful  as  the 

198 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

night ;  and  in  contrast  to  the  recent  somber 
and  spectral  themes,  it  beams  forth  like  a 
diamond  against  black  velvet.  This  solo  of 
Elsa's  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  to  sing 
because  of  its  many  sustained  pianissimo 
tones.  After  the  last  sweet  note  has  died 
away  like  a  sigh,  Ortrud,  who  is  still  seated 
on  the  steps  beneath,  calls  to  Elsa  in  a 
pleading  voice.  She  appeals  to  the  latter 's 
sympathy  by  announcing  herself  as  "that 
most  unhappy  woman,  Ortrud,"  wife  to  the 
disgraced  Frederick.  "We  are  cursed  by 
God  and  man,  and  welcomed  nowhere." 
Thus  speaks  the  sorceress ;  and  Elsa,  in  the 
goodness  of  her  heart,  takes  pity  and  im- 
pulsively offers  to  receive  the  outcast.  She 
retires  from  the  balcony  and  presently 
opens  the  door  below  to  welcome  Ortrud, 
who  in  this  short  interim  has  sung  some 
splendid  phrases  of  gloating  animosity. 
But  she  kneels  like  a  humble  slave  before 
the  unsuspecting  Elsa,  who  invites  her  to 
the  wedding  and  also  promises  to  induce 

Lohengrin  to  pardon  Frederick. 

199 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

As  an  expression  of  gratitude,  Ortrud 
now  offers  to  exert  the  power  of  prophecy 
for  Elsa's  benefit.  Prophecy  and  sorcery 
are  regarded  in  different  lights :  the  latter 
is  wicked  and  implies  collusion  with  the  evil 
one,  while  the  "prophetic  eye"  is  a  gift  to 
be  coveted.  Ortrud  pretends  to  possess 
this  power.  She  forewarns  Elsa  against 
too  great  confidence  in  her  hero,  and 
mysteriously  hints  that  he  may  leave  as 
suddenly  as  he  came.  These  words  are 
accompanied  by  the  threatening  dark  mo- 
tif, which  hovers  ever  near  like  a  lowering 
cloud.  Elsa  recoils  at  the  thought — this 
first  seed  of  suspicion, — but  she  soon  smiles 
assuredly  and  sings  to  Ortrud  a  lovely  song 
about  "the  faith  and  trust  that  knows  no 
doubt."  Wagner's  words  are  as  beautiful 
as  his  music,  and  in  this  composition  they 
seem  to  mount  upward  on  the  "  wings  of 
song  "  like  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  a 
pure  heart.  Elsa  puts  her  arms  gently 
about  Ortrud  and  leads  her  into  the  palace. 

Frederick,  who  has  kept  in  the  background, 

200 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

watches    them    disappear,    and    the   scene 
closes  with  his  final  descant  on  revenge. 

After  his  exit  the  orchestra  has  a  solo,  so 
to  speak,  while  the  stage  is  occupied  in  rep- 
resenting the  dawn  of  day.  Villagers  stroll 
in  one  by  one,  garlands  are  hung  in  honor 
of  the  wedding,  and  the  scene  becomes  con- 
stantly brighter  and  more  active.  The 
herald  appears  above  the  gates  of  the 
palace  and  makes  three  announcements  in 
the  name  of  the  king:  First,  that  Fred- 
erick of  Telramund  is  banned  and  shall  be 
befriended  by  no  none;  second,  that  the 
Heaven-favored  stranger  shall  hereafter  be 
called  the  guardian  of  Brabant;  and,  third, 
that  this  hero  shall  lead  them  soon  to  "  vic- 
torious war."  Then  follows  a  chorus  about 
the  Heaven-sent  guardian  of  Brabant,  after 
which  there  is  a  momentary  commotion 
caused  by  Frederick,  who,  in  spite  of  the 
ban  against  him,  comes  forward  and  asserts 
that  he  will  defy  their  much-lauded  hero 
and  will  open  their  eyes  to  his  duplicity. 

But   this    incident    is   forgotten    in    the 

20I 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

gorgeous  scene  which  now  commences. 
The  wedding-guests  come  slowly  from  the 
palace,  and  wend  their  way  in  stately  pro- 
cession toward  the  church.  Their  course  is 
accompanied  by  a  march  of  pontifical  solemn- 
ity, which  attains  its  grandest  beauty  when 
Elsa  comes  down  the  great  stairway  clad 
in  robes  of  regal  splendor.  All  voices  join 
in  praise  for  "  Elsa  of  Brabant." 

The  procession  proceeds  to  the  church; 
the  music  increases  in  strength,  when  sud- 
denly there  is  a  discord.  Elsa  is  confronted 
at  the  church  entrance  by  Ortrud,  who 
fiercely  declares  she  will  no  longer  follow 
like  an  attendant;  that  vshe  is  the  one  to 
whom  people  should  bow  instead  of  Elsa, 
whose  future  lord  comes  of  a  land  and  family 
which  he  dare  not  tell !  Elsa  is  dumbfounded 
by  this  sudden  onslaught  from  the  woman 
she  has  befriended.  But  Ortrud  maintains 
her  position,  and  actually  defies  Elsa  to  ask 
the  hero  his  name.  This  attack  is  diverted 
by  the  ceremonious    entrance  of   the  king 

and  Lohengrin,  to  whom  Elsa  hastens  with 

202 


,  ^a.      .  L 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  X.  Y. 

Eames  as  Elsa  in  "  Lohengrin." 


1    (     C  f 


C  -    C        C      I 

<•      (     <    <  (.    , 


1     •   r    1    .J 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

her  grievance.  Ortrud  is  promptly  ordered 
aside,  and  the  procession  resumes  its  march. 
But  again  the  solemn  cathedral  music  crashes 
into  a  discord.  Frederick,  the  despised  one, 
dares  to  rush  before  the  king  and  bar  the 
way  as  he  begs  them  to  harken  to  his  words. 
There  is  great  indignation  over  the  interrup- 
tion, but  Frederick  so  intensel}/  cries  for 
justice  that  at  last  even  the  king  listens 
as  he  charges  Lohengrin  with  sorcery.  He 
sustains  the  charge  by  demanding  Lohen- 
grin to  tell  his  name,  if  he  be  an  honest 
man  ;  if  he  can  not  do  this  there  must  be  some 
dark  secret  to  hide.  All  turn  to  the  hero 
expectantly,  but  he  only  defends  himself  by 
saying  that  he  has  proven  his  worth  in 
mortal  combat,  according  to  ancient  usage, 
and  that  he  will  not  answer  Frederick  nor 
even  the  king — only  Elsa  shall  be  answered 
this  question.  He  turns  to  her  and  finds 
her  trembling  with  agitation.  The  orchestra 
tells  us  her  thoughts,  for  we  hear  the  Ortrud- 
theme  and  dark  motif  writhing  in  and  out 

like  venomous  serpents.     A  murmuring  sort 

203 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

of  chorus  about  the  strange  secret  which  the 
hero  so  zealously  guards  is  gradually  re- 
solved into  a  song  of  allegiance  and  belief. 
The  king  declares  Frederick  unworthy  of 
consideration.  But  during  the  jubilant 
chorus  which  follows,  that  Miserable  steals 
up  to  Elsa  and  casts  his  final  poison-shaft. 
He  tells  her  that  if  Lohengrin  were  once 
wounded,  "merely  pricked  in  the  finger," 
he  would  then  bestow  upon  her  full  confi- 
dence and  never  leave.  Frederick  further 
says  he  will  "linger  near  the  coming 
night,"  and  when  she  calls  will  enter  and 
commit  the  deed  without  harm  to  Lohen- 
grin. Elsa  spurns  the  tempter  away,  and 
Lohengrin,  who  perceives  him  at  her  side, 
bids  him  forever  begone.  But  finding  Elsa 
even  more  agitated  than  before,  he  asks  in 
the  presence  of  all  if  she  wishes  to  be  told 
his  name.  She  remembers  her  vow,  and 
in  tones  of  exultation  declares  that  love 
is  greater  than  doubt.  The  magnificent 
march  music   is  again  resumed,   and  they 

enter  the  minster  without  further  incident, 

204 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

excepting  the  defiant  gaze  of  Ortrud  as  Elsa 
passes;  and  while  the  curtain  descends  we 
hear  again,  half  hidden  in  the  orchestra, 
the  terrible  dark  motif. 

There  is  a  brilliant  orchestral  introduction 
to  the  third  act,  which  represents  the  mar- 
riage fete.  Its  tempo  and  rhythm  are  posi- 
tively gay,  tho  this  is  an  adjective  seldom 
appropriate  to  Wagner.  But  the  hilarity 
has  subsided  by  the  time  the  curtain  rises ; 
the  trumpets  and  cymbals  are  hushed,  and 
the  gentlest  of  music  greets  our  ears  as  we 
look  upon  the  bridal  chamber.  The  voices 
are  at  first  distant,  but  gradually  approach, 
and  the  effect  of  their  song  steals  over  us 
like  a  potent  charm.  It  is  the  wedding- 
march — the  "  Lohengrin  Wedding-March  "  ! 
We  all  know  the  power  of  that  music. 
There  are  some  compositions  which  become 
absorbed,  as  it  were,  by  the  world  like  im- 
portant inventions  or  discoveries.  People 
require  certain  musical  forms  of  expression 
as  they  do  artificial  light,  and  we  pity  those 

who  did  without  this  "Wedding-March,"  or 

205 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

Chopin's  "Funeral  March,"  or  the  Schubert 
"Serenade,"  as  we  pity  our  ancestors  who 
made  shift  with  tallow  candles  instead  of 
incandescent  lamps.  The  charm  of  the 
"  Wedding-March "  is  not  diminished  be- 
cause we  know  it  so  well.  With  Wagner 
as  with  Beethoven,  every  hearing  reveals 
new  beauties.  When  the  chorus  at  last 
leaves  Elsa  and  Lohengrin  alone,  we  echo 
his  first  words:  "The  sweet  song  now  is 
ended." 

But  our  regrets  are  quickly  appeased  by 
the  delicious  love-duet  which  follows.  It  is 
a  scene  of  rapt  delight — of  happiness  too 
great  to  last.  Not  in  vain  did  we  have  the 
dark  motif  jangled  in  our  ears  when  the 
curtain  last  descended ;  it  meant  trouble  in 
the  coming  act,  as  we  soon  perceive.  Elsa 
wishes  she  knew  his  name — just  to  speak  it 
lovingly  as  he  does  hers.  Then  Lohengrin 
points  to  the  open  window  through  which 
the  moonlight  streams  upon  them,  and  he 
sings  of  the  perfumed  air  which  they  enjoy 

without   questioning    its   cause   or   source; 

206 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

thus,  he  says,  should  they  love.  The  ex- 
quisite melody  of  this  song  seems  to  exhale 
from  his  heart  like  fragrance  from  a  flower. 
It  is  redolent  of  tenderest  love. 

The  nobility  and  beauty  of  Lohengrin's 
character  so  impress  themselves,  that  Elsa 
feels  oppressed  with  her  own  unworthiness. 
She  wishes  she  might  do  something  heroic  to 
prove  her  love.  For  instance,  if  he  would 
confide  to  her  his  secret,  she  would  guard 
it  so  faithfully  that  death  itself  could  not 
wrest  it  from  her !  Very  sweetly  and  beau- 
tifully does  she  coax  for  this  token  of  trust 
on  his  part.  Lohengrin  replies  most  gently 
that  he  has  trusted  her  already  by  believing 
that  she  would  keep  her  vow.  Then  he 
says  she  little  knows  how  much  she  is  to 
him ;  that  no  earthly  honor — not  the  king's 
kingdom — could  replace  what  he  has  left. 
Only  Elsa,  his  bride,  can  recompense  the 
sacrifice ;  for  not  from  night  and  grief  does 
he  come,  but  from  a  home  of  joy  and 
pride. 

Like  a   flash    does   this  remind    Elsa   of 

207 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Ortrud's  prophecy  that  he  may  leave  her. 
The  Ortrud-theme  swoops  down  upon  the 
orchestra  and  settles  there  like  an  ill-omened 
bird.  The  director's  baton  may  send  it 
away  for  a  moment,  but  down  it  comes 
again,  and  the  dark  motif  with  it.  Poor 
Elsa  becomes  almost  frenzied.  She  believes 
Lohengrin  will  long  for  his  beautiful  home, 
which  even  now  he  can  not  forget.  She 
sees  in  her  mind's  eye  the  swan-boat  ap- 
proaching to  take  him  away.  Lohengrin 
speaks  reassuringly ;  but  the  spell  is  upon 
her,  and  nothing — nothing  can  give  her 
peace  but  to  know  the  truth.  With  mount- 
ing tones,  the  last  one  of  which  is  like  an 
outcry,  she  asks  the  fatal  question.  Lohen- 
grin gives  an  exclamation  of  grief. 

At  this  moment  the  door  is  burst  open 
by  Frederick,  who  with  drawn  sword  has 
come  to  wound  the  hero,  or,  more  probably, 
to  kill  him.  Elsa  at  once  recognizes  his  in-  ^ 
tention,  and  frantically  bids  Lohengrin  de- 
fend himself.     With  a  single  thrust  he  kills 

his  would-be  assassin. 

208 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

This  intense  and  tragic  climax  is  followed 
by  a  lull.  Elsa  has  fallen  half-swooning  on 
the  couch,  and  Lohengrin  stands  sorrowfully 
to  one  side.  He  at  last  exclaims  slowly  and 
sadly:  "Now  is  our  sweet  joy  fled;"  and 
then  we  hear  in  the  orchestra,  faint  and 
beautiful  as  a  memory,  that  first  love-duet. 
It  is  only  a  fragment,  a  fleeting  thought, 
but  so  touching  and  pathetic  that  we  could 
weep  with  Lohengrin  for  the  harmony  that 
is  gone. 

The  last  act  is  short  and  almost  entirely 
taken  up  by  Lohengrin's  story  and  farewell. 
The  scenery  is  the  same  as  in  the  first 
act,  and  the  entire  chorus  of  noblemen  and 
soldiers  again  assemble  before  the  king. 
They  have  not  yet  heard  of  the  tragic  event 
which  ended  the  last  act,  and  are  therefore 
surprised  when  a  bier  is  cariied  in  and 
placed  solemnly  before  them.  It  bears  the 
body  of  Frederick.  They  are  still  more 
surprised  when  Elsa  enters,  pale  and  de- 
jected, and  then  their  hero,  who   appears 

equally  sad.     But  surprise  reaches  its  climax 
14  209 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

when  they  hear  him  announce  that  he  can 
not  be  their  leader. 

Lohengrin  wastes  no  words.  After  the 
first  assertion  he  informs  them  of  Fred- 
erick's death;  whereupon  all  voices  declare 
his  fate  to  be  most  just,  and  the  body  is  re- 
moved. Lohengrin  then  announces  that 
Elsa,  his  wife,  has  broken  the  vow  which 
they  all  heard  her  make,  and  he  has  come 
before  them  to  answer  her  question  and 
dispel  the  mad  suspicion  which  a  wily 
tempter  implanted  in  her  heart.  They 
shall  all  learn  his  name  and  heritage,  and 
may  then  judge  whether  he  was  worthy  of 
their  trust.  The  people  wonder  with  awe- 
hushed  voices  what  revelation  is  in  store, 
and  then  there  comes  in  the  orchestra  the 
soft  tremolo  of  the  swan-music,  as  Lohengrin 
tells  them  of  a  distant  land  called  Mont- 
salvat,  where  is  a  radiant  temple.  And  in 
this  temple  is  guarded  a  sacred  vessel  which 
possesses  wonder-powers.  A  dove  descends 
from  heaven  once  every  year  to  renew  its 
marvelous  strength.     This  treasure-blessing 

2IO 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

is  called  the  "Grail,"  and  to  its  chosen 
votaries  a  matchless  power  is  given.  These 
knights  of  the  Grail  are  sent  abroad  as 
champions  of  innocence  and  truth,  and 
they  may  tarry  so  long  as  their  name  is  un- 
known. But  the  Grail's  blessing  is  too  pure 
and  holy  to  be  regarded  by  common  eyes, 
and  if  disclosed  its  champion  must  leave  at 
once.  Lohengrin  adds  that  this  penalty 
now  falls  on  him,  for  he  is  a  knight  of  the 
Grail:  his  father,  great  Parsifal,  wears  its 
crown,  and  "I  am  Lohengrin." 

As  in  the  first  prelude  and  swan-song,  the 
harmonies  of  this  last  great  recital  seem 
not  of  earth  but  from  another  sphere ;  they 
linger  and  abide  with  us  like  a  beautiful 
blessing.  This  silver  -  clad  knight  of  the 
Grail  has  been  singing  of  a  hallowed  mystery 
whose  purity  and  spirituality  are  revealed 
more  in  the  music  than  by  the  words.  After 
bidding  farewell  to  the  hapless  Elsa,  from 
whom  he  must  part  in  spite  of  her  piteous 
appeals,  there  comes  floating  upon  the  river 
the  swan -boat.     He  sings  a  sad  welcome  to 

211 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  swan,  and  then  announces  to  Elsa  that 
could  he  have  remained  one  year,  through 
the  mercy  of  the  Grail  her  brother  would 
have  returned.  He  hands  her  his  sword 
and  horn  and  ring  to  give  this  brother  if 
ever  he  comes  back.  The  sword  and  horn 
will  impart  strength  and  victory,  and  the 
ring  shall  remind  him  of  "  Lohengrin  who 
loved  Elsa  and  was  her  champion." 

A  jarring  interruption  is  now  created  by 
Ortrud,  who  cries  out  with  reckless  triumph 
that  the  swan  who  serves  Lohengrin  is 
the  bewitched  brother,  and  that  Elsa  has 
herself  to  thank  for  causing  the  hero's  de- 
parture, which  forever  prevents  the  young 
Duke's  return.  On  hearing  this  mocking 
invection  from  the  sorceress,  Lohengrin 
clasps  his  hands  in  a  fervent  prayer,  which 
is  at  once  answered.  A  dove  descends  from 
heaven  and  touches  the  swan,  which  is  im- 
mediately changed  into  the  young  heir. 
He  rushes  forward  to  embrace  his  sister, 
while  Lohengrin  steps  into  the  boat,  which 
is  drawn  away  by  the  dove.     It  floats  silently 

212 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

down  the  beautiful  river,  and  the  hero  stands 
sorrowfully  leaning  upon  his  silver  shield. 
This  is  our  last  glimpse  of  Lohengrin,  the 
Knight  of  the  Grail. 


213 


"Aida." 


"AIDA." 

Madame  Nordica's  "  Aida  is  an  unsur- 
passed performance  and  always  draws 
crowded  houses,  for  the  strange  pathos  of 
the  music  displays  her  wonderful  voice  to 
its  fullest  beauty. 

As  in  "  Carmen  "  every  measure  scintil- 
lates with  the  sunshine  of  Spain,  so  in 
"  Aida "  every  phrase  seems  shadowed  by 
the  mysteries  of  Egypt.  A  comparative 
study  of  these  two  operas  will  forcibly  im- 
press one  with  the  power  of  music  to  ex- 
press nationality.  "  Aida  "  carries  one  to  a 
distant  land  and  centuries  back;  but  this 
power  of  breathing  the  musical  life  of  an- 
cient Egypt  into  the  still  form  of  a  libretto 
is  the  culmination  of  modern  art.  Giuseppe 
Verdi,  the  greatest  living  Italian  composer, 
had   written   twenty-six    operas   before   he 

wrote  "Aida." 

217 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

A  tender,  wistful  strain  high  up  in  the 
violins  forms  the  opening  of  the  prelude. 
With  this  first  faint  phrase  the  composer 
seems  to  awaken  from  her  long  sleep  the 
muse  of  Egyptian  music.  Like  the  hero  of 
fairy  lore,  Verdi,  the  prince  of  melody,  has 
penetrated  a  realm  of  slumbering  harmonies. 
They  are  at  first  subdued,  dazed,  and  be- 
wildered with  themes  mingled  and  woven 
together  like  exquisite  cobwebs.  The  con- 
ductor's wand  gently  disperses  these  cling- 
ing meshes  of  sound,  the  curtain  is  lifted, 
and  we  are  ushered  into  the  musical  life  of 
an  ancient  civilization. 

We  see  a  hall  in  the  palace  at  Memphis, 

and   Ramphis,   the   high    priest,    converses 

with    Rhadames,    a   distinguished    soldier. 

They  talk  of   the   impending  war  against 

Ethiopia,  and  it  is  intimated  that  Rhadames 

may  be  chosen  to  lead  the  Egyptians.     But 

the   words   and  song  are  of  little  interest 

compared  to  the  orchestral  accompaniment. 

This  is  somber  and  subdued ;  the  notes  are 

of  equal  length,  and  the  intervals  seem  of 

218 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

geometric  exactitude  like  the  diagram  of  an 
astrologer. 

Ramphis  goes  out  leaving  Rhadames  joy- 
ous over  the  prospect  of  becoming  a  general. 
He  thinks  of  his  beloved  Aida,  to  whom  he 
will  return  laden  with  laurels.  "  Celeste 
Aida!"  is  the  title  of  this  great  romanza. 
Like  all  love- songs  it  is  legato,  andante,  and 
pianissimo,  but  at  the  same  time  noticeably 
original  and  characteristic.  The  harmonies 
are  constructed  with  rigid  grandeur,  but 
softened  and  beautified  by  a  tender  melod}'" 
that  rests  upon  them  like  moonlight  on  the 
pyramids.  While  he  is  lost  in  thoughts  of 
Aida,  the  Princess  Amneris  enters.  She 
inquires  the  cause  of  his  radiant  expression, 
and  insinuatingly  wonders  if  it  is  some 
dream  of  love.  Rhadames  only  replies  that 
he  has  hopes  of  martial  honors,  and  is 
therefore  happy.  The  Princess  secretly 
loves  Rhadames,  and  her  questions  are 
based  on  jealousy,  which  is  revealed  in  the 
nervous,   agitated   theme  that  accompanies 

this    duet.       Her    suspicions    are    further 

219 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

aroused  by  the  entrance  of  Aida.  As  the 
heroine  approaches  we  hear  again  the  pen- 
sive theme  that  opened  the  prelude.  It 
takes  on  a  new  and  greater  meaning,  for 
Aida  is  a  captive  slave,  an  exile,  and  the 
music  reminds  us  of  some  great  longing 
that  vainly  strives  to  express  itself.  This 
effect  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  musical 
cadence  is  left  unresolved. 

Aida  must  have  the  dark  complexion  of 
the  Ethiopian,  and  very  few  prima  donnas 
look  well  under  coffee  -  colored  cosmetic ; 
but  Madame  Nordica's  appearance  does  not 
suffer  from  the  application.  This  Aida  is 
beautiful,  and  Rhadames  can  scarce  conceal 
the  joy  of  her  presence.  The  captive  also 
looks  down  to  hide  her  emotion.  But  Am- 
neris  has  detected  every  glance,  and  again 
that  jealous  theme  sweeps  like  a  flame  over 
the  orchestra. 

The    princess    addresses    her    slave     by 

sisterly  names,  and  asks  the  cause  of  her 

downcast    looks.      Aida  says    she    grieves 

because  of  the  war  against  her  native  land. 

220 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  X.  Y. 

Nordica  as  A'lda. 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

There  follows  a  trio  wherein  Amneris 
fosters  her  jealousy,  while  Aida  and  Rhad- 
ames  tremble  lest  their  secret  be  discovered. 

Sounds  of  martial  music  prelude  the  en- 
trance of  the  king  and  his  suite.  When 
they  are  assembled  a  messenger  comes  for- 
ward to  announce  that  the  Ethiopians  are 
marching  toward  Egypt's  capital  under  the 
leadership  of  their  king,  Amonasro.  Upon 
hearing  this  name  Aida  exclaims  to  herself, 
"My  father!"  and  we  thereby  learn  that 
she  is  a  princess,  but  has  concealed  the  fact 
from  her  captors.  The  Egyptians  impul- 
sively shout  "To  war!"  and  Rhadames  is 
proclaimed  their  leader.  They  sing  a  war- 
hymn  which  is  so  inspiring  that  even  Aida 
joins  in  this  prayer  for  victory  to  Rhadames. 
After  a  grand  climax  all  go  out  excepting 
the  heroine. 

"Return  victorious!"  She  repeats  this 
last  sweeping  phrase,  and  shudders  at  the 
words,  for  success  to  Rhadames  implies  de- 
feat to  her  father.  This  distressing  thought 
agitates  the  music  like  the  passing  of  a  great 

221 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

ship  over  tranquil  waters.  The  ensuing 
melody  rises  and  falls  like  waves  in  the 
wake  of  a  vessel.  Aida  realizes  that  she 
can  not  pray  for  either  lover  or  father. 
"  Was  there  ever  a  heart  so  oppressed ! " 
Her  song  is  like  a  wail,  and  the  accompani- 
ment introduces  a  pagan  use  of  the  mono- 
tone that  gives  startling  effects.  "  Pieta, 
pieta!  "  are  the  final  words  of  Aida's  great 
solo. 

She  goes  off,  and  the  scene  changes  to  an 
interior  view  of  the  temple  of  Vulcan.  It 
is  a  brilliant  setting,  with  solid  columns  and 
golden  statues,  mysterious  colored  lights 
and  fuming  incense,  priests  and  priestesses 
in  glittering  costumes ;  but  the  music  of  this 
consecration-scene  reveals  more  barbaric 
splendor  than  the  surroundings.  The  first 
sounds  are  the  full,  pulsating  chords  of  a 
harp,  and  from  an  inner  sanctum  the  grand 
priestess  sings  with  rich  soprano  tones  a 
weird  refrain  that  is  weighted  with  mystery. 
The  priests  in  front  answer  in  subdued, 
awe-hushed  voices.     Three  times  the  won- 

222 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

drous  song  and  answer  are  repeated,  after 
which  the  priestesses  perform  a  sacred 
dance  around  the  altar.  The  music  of  this 
dreamy  dance  has  the  most  astonishing  pro- 
gressions, but  at  the  same  time  maintains 
an  imposing  solemnity.  During  the  dance 
Rhadames  is  led  to  the  altar,  where  a  silver 
veil  is  placed  over  his  head.  Ramphis,  the 
high  priest,  charges  him  with  the  welfare 
of  the  Egyptian  army;  and  then  follows  a 
splendid  prayer  that  Ramphis  starts  like  a 
sacred  fire.  It  reaches  Rhadames,  who  sings 
in  a  higher  key,  and  then  it  spreads  and 
fills  the  great  temple;  bassos,  tenors,  solo- 
ists, and  chorus  take  it  up  in  turn  and  form 
one  mighty  rondo.  Like  a  response  from 
heaven  comes  the  chant  of  the  grand 
priestess  from  w^ithin.  Her  inspired  re- 
frain with  its  harp  accompaniment  alternates 
with  the  exalted  prayer  in  front.  This 
consecration-scene  has  little  to  do  with  the 
plot  of  the  story,  but  it  contains  some  of 
Verdi's  finest  music. 

Several   months  are   supposed   to   elapse 

223 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

before  the  second  act,  which  opens  with  a 
scene  in  the  apartment  of  Amneris.  Maids 
are  robing  the  princess  for  a  festive  occa- 
sion, and  we  learn  by  their  chorus  that 
Rhadames  will  to-day  return  from  victori- 
ous war.  This  scene  is  monopolized  by  the 
stringed  instruments  and  female  voices.  A 
tropical  indolence  characterizes  the  choruses, 
with  their  abundant  harp  accompaniment. 
Amneris  ever  and  anon  breaks  forth  with 
an  expansive  theme  expressing  her  uncon- 
quered  love  for  Rhadames.  To  divert  their 
mistress  a  group  of  Moorish  slaves  perform 
a  lively,  grotesque  dance,  for  which  Verdi 
has  written  music  of  intoxicating  witchery. 
It  is  crisp  as  the  snapping  of  fingers  and 
uncivilized  as  the  beating  of  bamboo  reeds — 
a  veritable  savage  revel  that  is  neverthe- 
less graceful  and  delicate.  The  chorus 
resume  their  dreamy  praise  of  the  hero,  and 
Amneris  continues  her  moody  thoughts  of 
love. 

Like  an  electric  flash  from  a  sultry  sky 

does  the  entrance  of  Aida  affect  the  musical 

224 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

atmosphere.  At  sight  of  the  beautiful 
captive,  Amneris  again  rages  with  jealousy, 
as  is  plainly  indicated  by  the  conflicting 
themes  in  the  orchestra.  With  subtle  de- 
vices the  princess  seeks  to  entrap  her  rival. 
She  pretends  a  deep  sympathy  for  Aida's 
grief  over  the  vanquished  Ethiopians,  and 
adds  that  "  Egypt  also  has  cause  to  mourn, 
for  our  brave  leader  Rhadames  is  among 
the  slain."  This  treacherous  falsehood  is 
foisted  so  suddenly  that  Aida  loses  caution 
and  reveals  her  emotion.  Amneris  cries 
out  in  fury:  "Tremble,  slave!  thy  secret 
is  discovered!"  She  informs  Aida  that 
Rhadames  lives,  and  that  she,  Pharaoh's 
daughter,  loves  the  hero  and  "will  not 
brook  the  rivalry  of  a  slave!"  Amneris 
threatens  death  as  the  punishment  for  such 
audacious  love.  The  proud  captive  stands 
for  a  moment  in  defiance ;  but  realizing  the 
futility  of  such  action,  she  humbly  pleads 
for  pardon.  In  this  song  the  composer  ad- 
mirably simulates  a  savage  dearth  of  com- 
pass and  harmony — an  effect  of  crude 
15  225 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

simplicity  that  is  charming  and  touching. 
The  scene  is  interrupted  by  a  song  of  vic- 
tory from  the  streets,  a  signal  for  the  festivi- 
ties to  begin.  After  commanding  the 
Ethiopian  to  follow  as  a  menial  in  the  cele- 
bration, Amneris  goes  out.  Aida  closes  the 
scene  with  the  same  prayer  to  Heaven 
"  Pieta!  "  that  ended  the  first  act. 

A  noisy  march  introduces  the  next  scene, 
which  represents  a  grand  avenue  in  Egypt's 
capital.  At  the  back  of  the  stage  is  a 
triumphal  arch  and  at  one  side  a  throne. 
The  greater  part  of  this  act  is  spectacular, 
and  after  an  opening  chorus  the  orchestra 
has  for  some  time  entire  charge  of  the 
music.  The  March  from  "  Aida  "  is  almost 
as  popular  as  the  Faust  March.  Its  har- 
monies never  swerve  from  the  Egyptian 
type,  being  always  stately  and  substantial 
as  their  architecture. 

While  the  brass  instruments  are  playing 

with  full  force,  we  witness  the  ceremonial 

entrance   of   the    court,    with   innumerable 

priests   and   soldiers,   trumpeters,  fan-bear- 

226 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ers,  standard-bearers,  train-bearers,  white 
slaves,  black  slaves,  flower  girls,  and  danc- 
ing girls.  There  follows  an  elaborate  ballet 
divertissement,  clothed  in  music  of  gay 
pattern  and  gaudy  design,  but  light  in  sub- 
stance. Five  lines  of  continuous  staccatos, 
like  so  many  strings  of  beads,  form  the 
opening  of  this  dance  music.  The  salient 
points  that  impart  an  unmistakable  Egyptian 
atmosphere  to  this  composition  are  as  fol- 
lows :  A  savage  repetition  of  every  musical 
phrase,  a  wild  predilection  for  the  monotone, 
a  limited  variety  of  keys,  and  a  preponderant 
accenting  of  the  rhythm. 

After  the  dance  more  soldiers  enter,  some 
more  slaves,  more  banners,  chariots,  and 
sacred  images.  A  chorus  of  welcome  to 
the  conquering  hero  is  struck  up,  and  it  in- 
creases in  strength  and  grandeur  with  the 
pageantry  on  the  stage.  It  is  not  merely 
the  crescendo,  but  the  glorious  swing  and 
rhythm  of  the  melody  that  so  inspires  en- 
thusiasm.    When  at  last  Rhadames  is  borne 

in   on    a   golden  palanquin,   the  climax   is 

227 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

stupendous.  With  a  final  "  Gloria !  "  shouted 
by  every  voice  the  hero  comes  forward  to  be 
embraced  by  the  king.  A  group  of  Ethiopian 
prisoners  are  led  forward,  and  Aida  with  a 
cry  of  joy  recognizes  her  father.  He  has 
disguised  himself  as  a  common  soldier,  and 
does  not  wish  it  known  that  he  is  the  de- 
feated king  Amonasro.  Every  one  is  in- 
terested in  this  reunion  of  Aida  with  her 
father,  and  the  princess  secretly  rejoices  to 
have  them  both  in  her  power.  Amonasro 
makes  a  noble  plea  for  mercy,  and  his  words 
are  set  to  music  that  "droppeth  as  the 
gentle  rain  from  heaven."  It  is  like  a  tone- 
translation  of  Shakespeare's  ode  to  the 
quality  of  mercy.  Aida  and  the  other  cap- 
tives lend  their  voices  to  the  entreaty. 
Rhadames,  who  has  been  observing  Aida 
but  dare  not  address  her,  is  moved  by  his 
love  to  ask  for  the  prisoner's  release.  The 
king  feels  bound  to  grant  the  hero's  re- 
quest, but  finally  decides  to  retain  Aida  and 
her  father  as  hostages  of  peace.     As  a  final 

honor  the  king   presents   his   daughter  to 

228 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Rhadames,  and  adds  that  by  her  side  he 
shall  some  day  reign  over  Egypt.  The  act 
closes  with  another  grand  ensemble.  Am- 
neris  gloats  over  her  rival's  subjection, 
Rhadames  longs  for  Aida  but  dare  not  op- 
pose the  king,  and  the  heroine  bemoans 
her  fate.  The  priests,  people,  soldiers,  and 
prisoners  praise  the  king,  the  trumpets 
blare  forth  the  Aida  March,  and  the  curtain 
descends. 

Act  III.  is  the  most  beautiful  both  scenic- 
ally  and  dramatically.  It  pictures  the  banks 
of  the  Nile  at  night.  An  illuminated 
temple  is  at  one  side,  and  we  see  the  silvery 
river  winding  its  way  amid  palms  and 
rushes  far  into  the  distance.  Not  only  is 
the  landscape  bathed  in  "softened  light," 
but  also  the  music  imparts  an  unmistakable 
effect  of  moonlight.  A  faint  violin  pizzicato 
that  vibrates  but  never  changes  position 
is  maintained  throughout  the  introduction, 
while  the  other  instruments  call  up  weird 
sounds  of  the  night — the  palm-trees  rustling 

together  and  the  plaintive  cry  of  some  river- 

229 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

bird — then  all  is  still:  only  that  fluttering 
moonbeam  holds  the  senses. 

The  silence  is  broken  by  a  solemn  chant 
from  within  the  temple,  and  one  soprano 
voice  soars  out  alone  in  an  incantation,  mys- 
terious and  imposing  as  an  oracle.  A  royal 
barge  glides  to  the  river's  bank,  and  A.m- 
neris  with  her  maids  and  the  high  priest 
Ramphis  betake  themselves  to  the  temple, 
where  the  princess  offers  prayers  for  her 
coming  marriage.  The  sphinx-like  song  of 
the  grand  priestess  is  again  heard,  and  then 
every  sound  is  hushed  excepting  the  dreamy 
pizzicato  movement  in  the  violins  that  so 
resembles  the  flitting  of  moonbeams. 

Ere  long  the  solitary  tones  of  the  Aida- 
theme  arise  from  the  stillness  like  a  spirit 
of  night.  Never  before  have  we  realized 
the  full  beauty  of  this  melody,  for  amid  the 
blare  and  brightness  of  other  harmonies  it 
has  been  obscured  like  a  sensitive  flower. 
But  here  in  the  solitude  and  darkness  it  un- 
folds itself  like  some  glorious  night  bloom. 

With   cautious   steps    the    heroine   enters. 

230 


STARS    OF   THE    OPERA. 

Rhadatnes  has  told  her  to  meet  him,  and 
Aida  wonders  what  greeting  he  will  have 
for  her.  If  it  is  but  to  say  farewell,  then 
"Nilas,  the  mighty  river,  shall  quiet  for- 
ever the  exile's  grief."  For  the  present 
she  plunges  into  a  flood  of  memory  about 
her  native  land,  a  stream  of  words  that 
gently  flows  through  a  forest  of  beautiful 
harmonies.  It  is  a  song  of  homesickness 
that  soothes  tho  it  saddens. 

While  still  under  the  spell  of  this  music 
Aida  is  startled  by  the  entrance  of  her  fa- 
ther. He  also  sings  of  their  distant  home, 
but  with  an  underlying  purpose.  He  says 
they  may  yet  return  ;  that  it  is  in  her  power 
to  save  Ethiopia,  to  regain  her  throne,  her 
love,  and  to  vanquish  her  rival  Amneris. 
The  father  has  been  quick  to  detect  the 
love  between  Aida  and  Rhadames.  Amo- 
nasro  announces  that  his  people  are  pre- 
pared to  renew  their  attack  and  that  success 
is  assured  if  they  can  learn  by  what  path 
the  Egyptians  will  march.     He  wishes  his 

daughter  to  win,  by  fair  means  or  false,  this 

231 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

secret  from  Rhadames.  Aida  at  first  re- 
fuses to  act  this  part  of  treachery,  where- 
upon Amonasro  chills  her  with  his  curse. 
He  says  she  is  no  longer  his  daughter,  "  No 
longer  princess  of  Ethiopia,  but  a  slave  of 
the  Pharaohs!"  The  proud  blood  of  the 
captive  is  aroused  by  this  epithet.  She  en- 
treats her  father  to  recall  his  words,  for 
" '  Patria  mia  '  ('  my  country  ')  is  more  to 
me  than  ray  love.  I  will  obey."  The  ac- 
companiment presents  an  unvaried  mono- 
tone in  the  treble,  while  beneath  it  there 
is  a  pathetic  melody  half  hidden  by  the 
upper  octaves  like  romance  suppressed  by 
duty.  Amonasro  conceals  himself  behind 
palm-trees  as  Rhadames  approaches. 

Never  has  the  joy  of  meeting  been  more 
admirably  expressed  in  music  than  in  Rhad- 
ames's  greeting  of  Aida.  It  is  a  flight  of 
song  as  spontaneous  and  free  as  the  flight 
of  a  released  bird.  He  tells  her  that  he 
will  not  marry  the  princess,  but  must  start 
at  once  on  a  second  war ;    and  if  this  time 

victorious  he  will  tell  the  king  of  his  love 

232 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

and  will  claim  Aida  as  the  reward  of  his 
valor.  It  is  a  brave  plan,  but  she  quickly 
discovers  the  weak  point.  The  nervous, 
inflammatory  theme  of  jealousy  that  accom- 
panied Amneris  in  the  first  act  again  arises 
like  a  hot  breath  from  the  orchestra.  Aida 
well  knows  that  the  princess  would  wreak 
vengeance  "like  the  lightning  of  heaven." 
There  is  only  one  course  that  will  unite  the 
lovers,  and  this  is  to  fly — "  Fugire !  " — to  fair 
Ethiopia,  Aida's  native  land.  She  coaxes 
and  entreats  in  phrases  of  delirious,  dream- 
like beauty  descriptive  of  that  wondrous 
land — "  There  where  the  virgin  forests  rise 
'mid  fragrance  softly  stealing."  A  halcyon 
peace  pervades  the  music,  and  its  harmonies 
are  strange  and  rare  like  the  perfume  of 
some  exotic  flower,  Rhadames  demurs,  but 
the  power  of  her  song  is  irresistible,  and 
he  soon  consents  to  leave  Egypt  for  her 
sake.  There  is  nothing  half  way  about  his 
decision  when  once  made.  The  orchestra 
music  rises  in  emphatic,  resolute  crescendos 
that  are  gloriously  inspiring,  and  the  singer's 

233 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

voice  is  carried  forward  like  a  rider  on  his 
steed.  The  music  recurs  to  the  first  impul- 
sive theme  of  greeting.  It  is  given  in  full 
chords,  and  the  soprano  joins  with  the  tenor. 
Every  note  is  accented  and  the  crescendos 
are  augmented.  Both  voices  and  orchestra 
mount  upward  and  soar  away  on  one  final, 
sustained  note. 

As  the  lovers  start  to  go,  Aida  asks,  "  By 
what  route  do  the  Egyptians  march?  We 
must  avoid  them  in  our  flight."  Rhadames 
names  the  path,  whereupon  Amonasro  steps 
forward  announcing  that  "  the  king  of  Ethi- 
opia "  has  overheard  this  important  secret. 
He  promises  royal  honors  to  Rhadames ;  but 
the  hero  is  overwhelmed  with  the  realiza- 
tion that  he  has  betrayed  his  country.  Ven- 
geance falls  upon  him  at  once,  for  Amneris 
and  the  high  priest  have  also  overheard. 
They  come  from  the  temple  and  denounce 
Rhadames  as  a  traitor.  He  is  seized,  but 
Amonasro  and  Aida  escape. 

The  first  scene  of  the  fourth  act  reveals 
a  hall  in  the  palace.     At  the  back  is  a  large 

234 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

portal  leading  to  the  subterranean  court  of 
justice.  Amneris  holds  the  stage  alone  dur- 
ing the  greater  part  of  this  scene.  The  or- 
chestra preludes  it  with  the  familiar  theme 
of  jealousy  that  indicates  the  ensuing  action 
as  clearly  as  the  title  to  a  chapter.  Rhad- 
ames  is  to-day  awaiting  judgment,  and  the 
princess,  as  a  last  resort,  offers  to  secure  his 
pardon  if  he  will  promise  to  forget  Aida. 
The  hero  firmly  refuses  the  proffered  love 
of  Amneris.  He  believes  Aida  is  dead  and 
prefers  to  die  also.  Very  grandly  does 
the  music  depict  Amneris 's  outraged  feel- 
ings. She  flings  a  fusilade  of  wrathful  tones, 
every  one  bearing  the  sting  of  sharp  accent. 
But  when  he  is  gone  her  pride  and  jealousy 
wilt  under  the  warmth  of  genuine  love. 
She  sees  him  led  to  his  doom  in  the  under- 
ground courts  and  hears  the  priests  and 
judges  chanting  his  name  as  traitor.  This 
scene  resembles  the  "  Miserere  "  in  "  II  Tro- 
vatore."  Three  times  the  unseen  chorus  is 
followed  by  the  soprano  in  front,  who  sings 
an  anguished  phrase  that  starts  with  a  high 

235 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

note  and  ends  with  a  palpitating,  gasping 
decrescendo  that  is  almost  identical  with  the 
music  of  Leonore.  The  priests  condemn 
Rhadames  to  be  buried  alive.  As  they 
again  pass  through  the  hall,  Amneris  pleads 
and  implores  for  mercy,  but  it  is  now  too 
late.     No  power  can  save  the  hero. 

The  last  scene  of  the  opera  is  very  short, 
but  it  is  the  most  important.  It  represents 
two  floors,  the  upper  one  being  a  splendid 
and  brilliant  temple  interior,  while  beneath 
it  is  the  crypt — gloomy  and  terrible.  This 
is  the  tomb  of  Rhadames,  who  has  just  been 
immured.  The  priests  above  are  placing 
the  final  stone  as  the  curtain  rises  and  the 
hero  is  seen  below  reclining  on  the  steps. 
He  is  thinking  of  Aida  while  resignedly 
awaiting  his  slow  and  awful  death.  Sud- 
denly a  voice  calls  him,  and  Aida  herself 
appears  to  his  wondering  gaze.  She  had 
heard  of  his  fate,  and  to  prove  her  love  has 
secretly  returned  and  hidden  in  this  tomb 
to  die  with  him.     The  following  song  of 

the  lovers  has  been  humorously  referred  to 

236 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

as  the  "starvation  duet."  The  fact  of  this 
appellation  only  reveals  how  celebrated  is 
the  composition.  It  is  more  generally- 
known  as  "the  duet  from  'Aida. '  "  There 
are  other  duets  in  the  opera,  but  when  an- 
other is  meant  it  is  designated ;  this  is  the 
great  on'e.  Its  pathetic  harmonies  are  min- 
gled with  the  solemn  chant  of  the  grand 
priestess  in  the  temple  above  and  the  music 
of  a  sacred  dance.  Aida  becomes  delirious, 
and  sees  in  her  dreams  the  gates  of  heaven 
opening.  Indeed,  the  music  is  exquisite 
enough  to  make  any  one  dream  of  heaven. 
When  Madame  Nordica  sings  it,  the  whole 
scene  seems  real  and  so  sadly  beautiful  that 
your  own  heart  too  almost  stops  its  beating. 
With  soft,  sweet  tones  and  bated  breath 
Aida  sings  till  she  dies. 

Instead  of  closing  with  a  crescendo,  as  do 
most  operas,  the  final  of  "  Aida  "  becomes 
ever  softer  and  fainter,  like  a  departing 
spirit.  The  brass  and  wood  instruments 
have  long  since  retired,  only  the  violins  and 

harp  keep  up  a  gentle  vibrating  accompani- 

237 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ment  like  the  flutter  of  cherubs'  wings. 
The  curtain  descends  very  slowly,  and  the 
last  notes  of  the  violin  are  written  doubly 
pianissimo.  The  muse  of  Egyptian  music 
glides  away  as  silently  as  she  came. 


238 


"The  Huguenots." 


"THE  HUGUENOTS." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  massacre  of 
St.  Bartholomew  should  have  attracted  such 
a  composer  as  Giacomo  Meyerbeer.  The 
terrible  scene  immediately  suggests  a  blaze 
of  orchestral  chords,  seething  strings,  and 
shrieking  brass,  a  style  in  which  Meyer- 
beer delighted.  He  secured  the  collabora- 
tion of  the  celebrated  French  dramatist  Eu- 
gene Scribe,  who  apparently  went  to  work 
at  this  libretto  by  writing  the  fourth  act 
first  and  then  forcing  the  preceding  situa- 
tions to  fit  together  as  best  they  would. 
The  result  is  not  wholly  satisfactory ;  but 
where  the  plot  is  vague  the  music  is  clear 
and  strong  enough  to  carry  our  emotions 
over  chasms  of  inconsistencies. 

The    great    theme    of    the    opera   is   the 

Huguenot  hymn,  a  thrilling  song  of  faith, 

with  firm,  bold  harmonies  that  express  un- 
i6  241 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

swerving  belief.  This  hymn  is  used  in  the 
overture  with  grand  effect.  It  is  sustained 
and  upheld  clear  and  strong  amid  the  mur- 
murings  and  attacks  of  surrounding  varia- 
tions until  it  finally  bursts  forth  in  un- 
trammeled  splendor  like  the  supremacy  of 
religious  faith. 

The  curtain  rises  upon  a  banquet-hall  in 
the  mansion  of  Count  de  Nevers,  who  is  a 
gay  young  nobleman  of  Touraine,  the  prov- 
ince of  France  in  which  the  first  two  acts 
occur.  Nevers  is  giving  a  supper  to  his 
comrades,  and  the  first  chorus  is  the  cele- 
brated drinking-song,  a  refrain  so  abound- 
ing in  good  cheer  that  it  predisposes  one 
in  favor  of  the  whole  opera.  The  revelers 
are  all  Romanists,  with  the  exception  of 
Raoul  de  Nangis,  a  young  Huguenot,  who 
because  of  recent  promotion  in  the  army 
has  been  included  among  the  guests.  Ne- 
vers proposes  a  toast  to  "our  sweethearts," 
and  gaily  adds  that  he  must  soon  forego 
such    frivolities    as    he   is   to   be    married. 

Some  one  suggests  that  they  all  recount  their 

242 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

love  affairs,  and  Raoulis  requested  to  begin. 
He  relates  an  adventure  wherein  he  rescued 
a  beautiful  lady  from  the  rude  insults  of 
some  boisterous  students.  He  has  not  seen 
her  since  and  knows  not  her  name,  but  she 
dwells — in  his  heart.  His  glowing  descrip- 
tion of  the  heroine  is  a  verbal  portrait  framed 
in  music  of  golden  beauty.  It  is  the  best 
tenor  solo  of  the  opera. 

After  this  love-story  some  surprise  is 
caused  by  the  entrance  of  Marcel,  a  Hugue- 
not soldier,  who  is  Raoul's  faithful  attend- 
ant and  has  followed  his  young  master  to 
this  banquet  merely  to  be  near  and  watch 
over  him.  Marcel  much  disapproves  of  this 
"feasting  in  the  camp  of  the  Philistines," 
as  he  terms  it,  and  by  way  of  atonement  he 
renders  in  a  loud  voice  that  fervid  hymn 
which  the  Huguenots  always  sing  when  in 
danger.  Raoul  begs  his  friends  to  excuse 
the  rough  soldier,  and  they  promptly  attest 
their  good  will  by  inviting  Marcel  to  drink. 
He  declines  the  wine,  but  consents  to  sing 
for  them.     His  song  has  a  wild  refrain  like 

243 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  firing  of  musketry,  "  Piff-paff-piff,"  and 
it  is  a  celebrated  bass  aria. 

When  this  whizzing  composition  is  ended 
a  servant  informs  the  host  that  a  strange 
visitor  would  like  to  speak  with  him  pri- 
vatel3\  Nevers  at  first  refuses  to  see  any- 
one ;  but  on  learning  that  it  is  a  veiled  lady 
he  changes  his  mind  and  goes  out,  after 
laughingly  announcing  that  he  is  thus  con- 
stantly sought  by  handsome  women.  Dur- 
ing his  absence  the  others  joke  about  the 
incognita  and  handle  her  reputation  lightly. 
They  look  through  a  window  and  see  her 
conversing  with  Nevers  in  his  private 
apartment.  At  sight  of  her  face  Raoul  re- 
coils, for  this  clandestine  visitor  is  none 
other  than  the  heroine  of  his  romance — the 
beauty  to  whom  he  had  lost  his  heart.  His 
ideal  is  shattered  by  the  discovery.  When 
Nevers  returns  the  audience  learns  from 
an  aside  remark  that  the  lady  was  his  pro- 
spective bride,  Valentine  de  St.  Bris,  and 
that  she  came  to  beg  release  from  her  prom- 
ise.    He  has  reluctantly  complied,  but  does 

244 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

not  inform  his  guests  of  the  matter.  At 
this  moment  a  richly  attired  young  page 
presents  himself.  It  is  Urban,  the  con- 
tralto role,  who  after  bowing  gracefully  on 
all  sides  sings  a  charming  and  celebrated 
aria,  "  Nobil  donna," — "a  noble  lady  sends 
by  me  a  missive  to  one  of  these  gentlemen." 
Such  is  the  substance  of  this  exquisite  song 
with  its  chivalrous  melody,  surrounded  by 
rococo  embellishments  that  seem  as  appro- 
priate to  the  pretty  page  as  are  his  Louis 
Quinze  slippers  and  point-lace  ruffs.  The 
note  is  addressed  to  Raoul,  a  fact  that  occa- 
sions some  surprise.  The  young  Huguenot 
reads  aloud  what  sounds  like  a  practical 
joke,  for  the  paper  tells  that  a  court  carriage 
is  in  waiting  to  convey  him  blindfolded  to 
an  unnamed  destination.  His  companions 
urge  him  to  go,  for  they  have  recognized 
the  seal  as  belonging  to  Queen  Margaret  of 
Touraine;  but  Raoul  does  not  know  this. 
He,  however,  accepts  their  advice,  and  al- 
lows himself  to  be  blindfolded  in  spite  of 
protests  from  Marcel.     They  sing  a  bewitch- 

245 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ing  ensemble  that  is  finally  resolved  into 
the  familiar  drinking-song.  With  these  rol- 
licking measures  Raoul  is  led  away  by  the 
page  and  the  curtain  descends. 

The  opening  of  the  second  act  is  like  a 
musical  mirage — tone-phantasies  suspended 
in  the  air.  We  see  before  us  the  luxuriant 
palace  gardens  where  Margaret,  queen  of 
Touraine,  is  surrounded  by  her  maids  of 
honor.  Terraces  and  fountains,  jeweled 
hands  and  feathered  fans,  vibrant  harps  and 
caroling  flute  combine  to  form  an  effect  of 
elegant  repose.  Margaret  is  the  role  for 
colorature  soprano,  in  contradistinction  to 
the  heroine,  Valentine,  which  is  for  dra- 
matic soprano.  The  music  of  the  queen  is 
very  beautiful  and  so  difficult  that  it  re- 
quires a  great  artist,  altho  there  is  but  the 
one  important  scene.  It  is  considered  by 
some  to  be  Madame  Melba's  best  role. 

Her  first  aria  is  about  "this  fair  land," 

and  we  incidentally  learn  that  she  deplores 

the  existing   dissension  between    Catholics 

and  Huguenots,  the  one  blot  upon  the  per- 

246 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

feet  peace  of  Touraine.  Her  court  ladies 
presently  sing  an  idyllic  refrain,  and  Mar- 
garet joins  in  their  song ;  but  while  the  oth- 
ers abide  by  the  simple  melody  she  decks  it 
out  with  colorature  spangles  quite  befitting 
a  queen.  After  another  florid  solo  the  fa- 
vorite maid  of  honor,  Valentine  de  St.  Bris, 
enters.  She  wears  a  riding  costume  and 
has  just  returned  from  her  venturesome  in- 
terview with  De  Nevers,  who,  as  she  joy- 
fully announces,  has  released  all  claim  to 
her  hand.  We  soon  learn  that  Valentine 
loves  Raoul  and  has  confided  in  the  queen, 
who  is  planning  the  marriage  of  these  two, 
which  she  much  desires  because  it  will  unite 
the  leading  families  of  Catholics  and  Hugue- 
nots. The  queen  rather  delights  in  playing 
the  good  fairy,  and  for  this  reason  has  sum- 
moned Raoul  in  the  mysterious  fashion  wit- 
nessed in  the  first  act.  Before  he  arrives 
there  is  another  chorus,  called  the  "  song  of 
the  bathers."  A  harp  accompaniment  like 
rustling  leaves  plays  around   the   melody, 

which    is   of   eolian    sweetness,   until   sud- 

247 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

denly,  like  a  fitful  breeze,  there  comes  an 
elfish  measure  all  in  the  treble.  After  a 
brief  disporting  of  this  air-sprite  we  hear 
again  the  soft  eolian  harmonies,  which  rise 
and  fall  until  lulled  into  silence.  The  page 
Urban  announces  that  a  stranger  is  ap- 
proaching, and  the  maids  of  honor  gather 
around  as  he  tells  of  this  young  cavalier 
who  comes  with  blindfolded  eyes  and  knows 
not  his  destination.  Urban 's  song  is  brim- 
ming over  with  mischievous  coquetry.  Its 
opening  words  are  simply,  "  No,  no,  no,  no, 
no,  no,  you  never  heard  so  strange  a  tale." 
The  court  ladies  are  all  in  a  flutter  of  curi- 
osity when  Raoul  is  led  in,  and  they  would 
like  to  see  the  outcome  of  this  adventure ; 
but  the  queen  orders  them  away. 

Now  follows  a  scene  that  is  full  of  quaint 
themes  and  ingenious  duets,  a  musical 
branch  with  many  blossoms.  Raoul  is  per- 
mitted to  remove  the  bandage  from  his 
eyes.  He  looks  with  wonder  upon  the 
beautiful  scene,  and  then  addresses  elegant 

phrases  of  adoration  to  the  fair  lady  before 

248 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

liim.  She  is  not  devoid  of  coquetry — this 
queen  of  Touraine — and  for  some  moments 
there  is  a  graceful  game  between  the  two  in 
which  the  shuttlecock  of  love  is  tossed  upon 
the  battledores  of  music.  But  it  is  only  a 
game,  and  the  toy  is  presently  dropped. 
Urban  enters  to  announce  that  some  noble- 
men of  Touraine  have  come  to  attend  the 
queen.  Raoul  is  amazed  to  learn  the  lady's 
identity,  and  Margaret  hastens  to  inform 
him  that  in  order  to  unite  the  Huguenots 
and  Catholics  of  her  province  she  has  ar- 
ranged a  marriage  between  him  and  the 
daughter  of  St.  Bris.  Raoul  bows  obedi- 
ence to  her  wish. 

The  Catholics  and  Protestants  enter  in 
stately  procession  and  group  themselves  on 
either  side  of  the  stage,  Raoul  and  Marcel 
heading  the  Huguenots,  while  St.  Bris  and 
Nevers  represent  the  opposite  side.  Mar- 
garet welcomes  them  in  musical  phrases 
that  are  right  royal.  She  informs  St.  Bris 
and  Nevers  that  the  king  of  France  re- 
quests their  immediate  presence  in  Paris, 

•249 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

and  she  then  makes  her  own  request,  which 
is  that  Huguenots  and  Catholics  shall  lay 
aside  all  enmity  and  sanction  the  marriage 
that  she  has  arranged.  They  sing  a  splen- 
did refrain  calling  upon  heaven  to  witness 
their  vow  of  future  fellowship.  This  scene 
contains  some  fine  climaxes,  and  several  bril- 
liant cadenzas  for  the  queen.  Margaret 
sends  for  Valentine,  and  expects  Raoul  to 
be  thrilled  with  delight  when  he  recognizes 
the  heroine  of  his  romance.  But  as  Valen- 
tine comes  forward,  Raoul  gives  an  excla- 
mation of  indignant  surprise,  for  he  thinks 
some  great  insult  is  implied  in  asking  him 
to  marry  this  woman  who  secretly  visits  De 
Nevers  and  who  has  been  the  subject  of 
jests.  Without  explanation  he  firmly  re- 
fuses to  accept  her  for  his  bride.  The  con- 
sternation hereby  aroused  is  admirably  ex- 
pressed in  the  music.  The  first  measures 
are  hushed,  as  tho  the  chorus  were  dumb- 
founded ;  but  they  soon  gain  their  voices  and 
denounce  Raoul  in  ringing  tones.  Valen- 
tine exclaims,  "  What  have  I  done  to  earn 

250 


STARS    OF   THE   OPEltA. 

such  disgrace?  "  and  the  theme  is  taken  up 
in  grand  form  by  the  others.  Every  now 
and  then  we  catch  the  firm  tones  of  Marcel 
who  amid  all  this  dissension  is  singing  his 
Huguenot  hymn.  St.  Bris  draws  his  sword, 
but  the  queen  forbids  a  duel  in  her  pres- 
ence, and  reminds  him  that  he  must  go  at 
once  to  Paris.  Raoul  declares  he  will  fol- 
low and  is  ready  to  fight  St.  Bris  at  any 
time.  The  action  and  music  increase  in 
strength  until  the  curtain  falls. 

Act  III.  pictures  an  open  square  in  Paris, 
the  Pre-aux-Clercs,  which  extends  back  to 
the  river.  There  are  two  taverns  and  a 
church  in  the  foreground,  and  the  stage  is 
filled  with  a  mingled  crowd.  After  an 
opening  chorus  of  promenaders  some  Hu- 
guenot soldiers  come  forward  and  sing  a 
march  that  is  equally  stirring  and  much  re- 
sembles our  own  "Rally  'round  the  flag." 
It  is,  however,  more  elaborate,  and  has  a 
surprising  effect  in  which  the  upper  voices 
sing  a  steady  accompaniment  of  "  derum-de- 
dum-dum,"  while  words  and  melody  are  in 

251 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  bass.  There  follows  a  sharp  contrast 
in  the  song  of  some  Catholic  maidens  on 
their  way  to  church.  Purity  and  simplicity 
are  expressed  by  the  slender  accompani- 
ment of  flute  and  clarionet.  The  people 
kneel  as  they  hear  this  "Ave  Maria,"  but 
Marcel,  who  has  just  entered,  refuses  to  do 
so.  The  Catholics  are  angered,  while  the 
Huguenots  side  with  Marcel.  There  is  a 
vigorous  ensemble  in  which  the  "  Ave  Ma- 
ria" and  soldiers'  chorus  are  admirably  com- 
bined, and  through  it  all  are  heard  the  dis- 
puting cries  of  the  two  factions.  A  general 
scuffle  would  ensue  were  it  not  for  a  sudden 
diversion  in  the  form  of  some  brightly  clad 
gypsies  who  enter  and  solicit  trade  in  for- 
tune-telling. Their  song  is  as  gay  as  their 
costume,  and  they  wind  up  with  a  fantastic 
dance.  The  orchestra  music  is  here  more 
deserving  of  attention  than  the  stage  pic- 
ture. The  principal  melody  has  the  quaint 
conceit  of  reiterating  one  note  through  five 
beats,  and  then  with  a  quick  turn  reeling 

on  to  the  next,   like   a  dancer    poising  on 

252 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

one  foot  until  forced  to  whirl  upon  the 
other. 

After  this  divertissement,  St.  Bris,  his 
friend  Maurevert,  and  de  Nevers  come  out 
of  the  church  where  thev  have  left  Valen- 
tine,  who,  we  now  learn,  is  after  all  to  marry 
Nevers  and  this  is  their  wedding-day.  The 
bridegroom  goes  to  bring  his  retinue  to 
escort  the  bride  home,  and  St.  Bris  felici- 
tates himself  for  bringing  about  this  union 
which  wipes  out  the  disgrace  of  Raoul's  re- 
fusal. His  remarks  are  interrupted  by  Mar- 
cel, who  delivers  a  letter  from  his  master 
which  designates  the  Pre-aux-Clercs  as 
meeting-place  and  an  "  hour  after  sundown  " 
the  time  for  their  deferred  duel.  Maure- 
vert suggests  to  St.  Bris  that  the  Huguenot 
deserves  more  punishment  than  can  be 
meted  out  in  honorable  combat,  and  the  two 
friends  retire  in  consultation. 

The  stage  is  darkened  and  we  hear  the 
curfew  bell,  while  a  watchman  goes  through 
the  street  chanting  a  drowsy  refrain  that 
tells  all  good  people  to  close  their  doors  and 

253 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

retire.  Maurevert  and  St.  Bris  again  cross 
the  stage,  and  we  glean  from  their  few  words 
that  a  plot  is  brewing  for  Raoul's  destruc- 
tion. But  Valentine  has  been  standing  at 
the  church  door  and  overheard  their  talk. 
She  is  much  alarmed,  and  wishes  to  warn 
Raoul,  but  knows  of  no  way  until  suddenly 
she  hears  and  recognizes  the  voice  of  Mar- 
cel. She  calls  to  him,  and  he  asks :  "  Who 
calls  in  the  night?  Explain  at  once  or  I 
will  fire !"  Valentine  quickly  thinks  to  speak 
the  potent  name  "Raoul."  Meyerbeer  has 
very  aptly  used  for  this  call  the  interval  of 
the  perfect  fifth,  which  is  known  as  the  cry 
of  nature,  because  it  is  the  most  natural  in- 
terval to  fall  upon  when  calling  in  the  open 
air.  The  milkmaid  calling  her  cows  or  the 
huckster  vending  his  wares  will  most  often 
be  found  singing  the  perfect  fifth. 

On  hearing  the  name  of  his  master  Mar- 
cel is  satisfied  and  comes  forward  to  inves- 
tigate, but  Valentine's  face  is  concealed  by 
her  bridal  veil.  She  tells  him  that  his  mas- 
ter should  be  well  armed  and  have  strong 

254 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

friends  near  in  the  coming  duel,  else  he 
will  fall  the  victim  of  a  plot.  Valentine 
starts  to  go,  but  Marcel  detains  her  with  the 
question,  "Who  art  thou?"  She  hesitates 
and  then  answers,  "  A  woman  who  loves 
Raoul."  In  a  highly  dramatic  aria  whose 
phrases  are  like  storm-tossed  billows  on  a 
restless  deep-sea  accompaniment  she  con- 
fesses that  in  saving  the  one  she  loves  she 
has  "betrayed  her  own  father."  The  two 
voices  finally  work  together  as  is  the  fashion 
of  duets,  and  end  up  with  a  flourishing  cli- 
max. At  this  point  occurs  the  famous  high 
C  which  Madame  Nordica  so  brilliantly  sus- 
tains and  crescendos  throughout  four  meas- 
ures. It  is  a  toztr  de  force  which  always 
brings  down  the  house.  Valentine  now  re- 
enters the  church  as  the  principals  and  sec- 
onds of  the  duel  approach.  Marcel  tries  to 
warn  his  master,  but  Raoul  will  not  listen  to 
suspicions,  for  he  believes  his  opponent  to  be 
honorable.  There  follows  a  splendid  sep- 
tet, in  which  Raoul  sings  the  leading  refrain 
buoyant  with  youthful  courage.     The    en- 

255 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

semble  is  occasionally  interspersed  with  the 
religious  tones  of  Marcel,  who  prays  Heaven 
to  interfere.  A  grand,  swinging  theme  in 
which  all  the  voices  move  together  like  a 
great  pendulum  is  the  final  of  this  septet. 

The  duel  begins,  but  Marcel,  who  is  on 
the  alert,  hears  approaching  footsteps  and 
draws  his  sword.  Maurevert  enters  and 
cries  out  as  prearranged :  "  A  duel  with  un- 
fair numbers!  More  Huguenots  than  Cath- 
olics !  Help !  "  whereupon  his  followers  rush 
in  and  surround  Raoul.  But  at  this  moment 
the  Huguenot  soldiers  who  are  merry-ma- 
king in  the  tavern  commence  singing  their 
jolly  "  derum  -de  -  dum  -  dum, "  whereupon 
Marcel  rushes  to  the  door  and  sings  in  thun- 
dering tones  the  Protestant  hymn,  which 
the  soldiers  within  at  once  recog^nize  as  a 
signal  of  danger.  They  hurry  out,  and  then 
follows  a  lively  commotion  on  all  sides. 
But  there  are  more  words  than  blows,  and 
the  excitement  is  presently  quelled  by  the 
ceremonious  entrance  of   Queen    Margaret 

who  has  just  arrived  in  Paris.     She  is  much 

256 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

displeased  to  come  upon  party  dissension. 
St.  Bris  blames  Raoul,  while  the  Huguenot 
charges  St.  Bris  with  treachery.  At  this 
moment  Valentine  comes  from  the  church, 
and  Marcel  relates  how  she  warned  him  of 
a  plot.  There  is  general  amazement  on 
hearing  this.  Raoul  now  thinks  to  make 
some  inquiries  about  this  lady  he  had  so 
unhesitatingly  condemned,  and  learns  how 
terrible  was  his  mistake.  St.  Bris  enjoys 
telling  him  that  she  is  the  bride  of  De  Ne- 
vers,  and  we  hear  the  approaching  music  of 
the  nuptial  barge.  An  illuminated  flotilla 
appears  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  and  Nevers 
steps  upon  the  bank.  He  addresses  to  Val- 
entine some  gallant  phrases  of  welcome,  and 
escorts  her  to  the  boat  as  his  splendid  retinue 
sing  a  joyous  wedding-march.  The  curtain 
falls  upon  a  whirl  of  gay  music. 

Scribe  is  on  terra  firma  in  the  fourth  act, 
which  is  really  the  nucleus  of  the  plot,  and 
is  perhaps  the  most  dramatic  love-scene  of 
any  grand  opera.  The  curtain  rises  upon 
an  apartment  in  the  house  of  Nevers,  and 
n  257 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

Valentine  is  alone.  The  opening  orchestral 
measures  seem  oppressed  with  a  tuneful  de- 
spair that  is  soon  explained  by  her  song, 
wherein  she  bewails  this  forced  marriage, 
for  her  heart  still  cherishes  Raoul.  The 
hero  suddenly  appears  at  her  door,  and  Val- 
entine thinks  she  is  dreaming  until  Raoul 
announces  that  he  has  come  "like  a  crimi- 
nal in  the  night,  risking  all "  for  the  sake 
of  seeing  her  and  craving  forgiveness. 
They  hear  approaching  footsteps,  and  Val- 
entine prevails  upon  him  to  enter  a  side 
room  just  as  her  father  and  husband  come 
in  at  the  main  door  with  a  company  of  Cath- 
olic noblemen.  They  are  too  interested  in 
themselves  to  note  Valentine's  agitation, 
and  she,  being  a  Catholic,  is  allowed  to  re- 
main while  her  father  unfolds  the  awful 
plan  sanctioned  by  Catherine  de  Medicis  to 
"wipe  the  Huguenots  from  the  face  of  the 
earth."  The  great  theme  of  this  conjura- 
tion-scene, "  blessed  is  revenge,  obey  the 
good  cause,"  is  softly  sung  by  St.  Bris  and 
then   taken  up  by  the  others  in  broad  har- 

258 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

monies  that  swell  out  and  sweep  forward  like 
a  mighty  torrent.  When  the  tone-waves  are 
again  tranquil  St.  Bris  bids  his  friends 
swear  allegiance  to  the  royal  decree,  and  all 
comply  with  the  exception  of  De  Nevers, 
who  declares  he  can  not  join  in  such  mur- 
der. There  is  graceful  nobility  in  his  music 
and  fervor  in  his  words. 

The  details  of  the  plot  are  sung  by  St. 
Bris  in  hushed,  hurried  tones:  how  "to- 
night when  strikes  the  bell  of  St.  Ger- 
maine  "  the  Catholics  shall  rush  upon  the 
unsuspecting  Huguenots.  He  then  admits 
into  the  room  a  group  of  monks,  who  tie 
white  scarfs  upon  the  conspirators  and  bless 
their  uplifted  swords.  The  music  of  this 
scene  is  grandly  sustained  by  the  orchestra, 
but  the  ensemble  is  difficult  and  requires 
much  rehearsing,  for  it  abounds  in  surpri- 
sing fortes  and  pianissimos. 

When  the  conspirators  are  gone,  Raoul 
starts  from  his  hiding-place  toward  the 
door,  but  Valentine  intercepts  the  way.  He 
wishes  to  fight  for  his  friends  or  die  with 

259 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

them,  but  she  begs  him  to  stay.  There  fol- 
lows a  thrilling  duet  in  which  the  voices 
pursue  each  other  with  growing  intensity. 
The  tempo  is  rapid,  and  the  phrases  short 
and  breathless.  The  first  minor  melody  is 
soft,  but  throbbing  with  suppressed  emotion 
like  the  strange  light  and  peculiar  hush  pre- 
ceding a  tempest.  Then  the  music  rushes 
into  the  major,  where  it  reels  and  sways  like 
an  anchored  ship  that  must  soon  break  its 
moorings.  The  soprano  voice  rises  upon 
G,  A,  B  flat,  B  natural,  and  finally  C,  where 
all  bonds  seem  loosed  and  the  music  re- 
bounds in  a  rapid  descending  chromatic  run. 
Then  comes  a  furious  passage  in  which  the 
orchestra  conductor  uses  his  baton  like  a 
Roman  charioteer  lashing  his  steeds.  Val- 
entine places  herself  before  the  door,  and 
in  a  desperate  moment  she  declares,  "  Thou 
must  not  go,  for,  Raoul — I  love  thee!" 
This  confession  is  followed  by  a  transport- 
ing duet  that  brings  oblivion  to  other  mem- 
ories.    Its    mellifluous    melody   is   written 

pianissimo,  dolce,  legato,  amoroso,  and  the 

260 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

orchestra  carries  it  one  measure  behind  the 
voice,  thus  keeping  the  theme  constant!)'  in 
the  air  like  a  sweet  incense. 

A  bell  in  the  distance  suddenly  scatters 
all  lingering  harmonies.  It  is  the  bell  of 
St.  Germaine,  and  Raoul  is  aroused  to  real- 
ity. He  sings  a  dramatic  refrain  about  duty 
and  honor,  but  Valentine  still  entreats  him 
to  stay.  Her  song  is  simple  as  a  lullaby 
but  powerful  in  effect,  and  he  is  distracted 
between  her  pleadings  and  the  cries  from 
the  street.  Flinging  open  the  window,  he 
shows  her  the  terrible  scene  of  massacre. 
A  lurid  light  falls  upon  them,  and  there  is 
murder  in  the  orchestral  music.  Valentine 
swoons.  Raoul  looks  with  anguish  upon 
her  prostrate. form  and  we  hear  the  struggle 
he  endures.  The  melody  of  Valentine's 
last  sweet  song  predominates  for  a  moment 
in  the  orchestra,  but  then  the  noise  of  the 
massacre  is  resumed.  Raoul  hesitates  no 
longer.  One  farewell  glance,  and  he  rushes 
with  drawn  sword  through  the  open  window 

to  the  street. 

261 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Unlike  many  operas  in  whicti  the  fourth 
act  is  the  greatest,  the  finale  of  ''  The  Hu- 
guenots "  is  of  sustained  intensity  and  not 
an  anti-climax.  This  fifth  act  is  often  omit- 
ted, however,  as  it  makes  the  opera  very 
long.  The  scene  represents  a  street  at 
night — men,  women,  and  children  cross  the 
stage  and  take  refuge  in  a  church.  Raoul 
and  Marcel  chance  to  meet,  and  they  are 
soon  surprised  by  the  entrance  of  Valen- 
tine, who  has  recklessly  followed  the  hero. 
She  wears  the  white  scarf  which  betokens 
Catholicism  and  h,as  brought  one  for  Raoul, 
but  he  refuses  this  mode  of  escape.  Valen- 
tine then  flings  her  own  emblem  away  and 
declares  she  will  join  his  faith.  The  music 
of  this  entire  act  is  most  thrilling.  We 
hear  the  women  in  the  church  singing  as  a 
last  prayer  that  grand  Huguenot  hymn  and 
in  the  distance  a  chorus  of  murderers  as 
they  make  their  awful  progress  through  the 
streets.  This  massacre  music  is  blood-curd- 
ling; its  steady,  muffled  tread  sounds  like 

marching   over   a   paving  of   dead   bodies. 

262 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

The  waiting  figures  in  the  foreground  again 
hold  our  attention.  Marcel  relates  how  he 
witnessed  the  death  of  De  Nevers,  and  on 
learning  that  Valentine  is  free  these  lovers 
kneel  before  the  Huguenot  soldier,  who 
blesses  their  union.  The  choral  in  the 
church  is  again  heard,  and  those  outside 
join  in  its  splendid  harmonies.  Valentine 
sings  with  the  fervor  of  her  new-found 
faith,  "  Hosanna,  from  on  high  the  clarion 
sounds !  "  This  last  trio  resembles  the  finale 
of  "  Faust"  in  that  the  theme  rises  higher 
and  higher,  like  a  flaming  fire,  to  be 
quenched  at  last  by  Death.  The  murder- 
chorus  is  heard  approaching,  and  soon  a 
group  of  massacrers  enter.  "  Who  is  there  ?  " 
they  ask. 

"Huguenot!"  replies  the  hero,  and  in 
ringing  tones  a  woman's  voice  cries  out, 
"Huguenot!"  "Fire!"  orders  St.  Bris, 
who  thereby  kills  his  own  daughter. 


263 


An  Hour 
with 

Lilli  Lehmann 


)   1  )  3  5 


3    3   J    >    ) 
)   )    )    )    1 


LILLI    LEHMANN. 


AN  HOUR  WITH  LILLI  LEHMANN. 

In  Berlin,  fourteen  years  ago,  the  for- 
eigner was  at  once  impressed  with  two 
faces,  new  to  him,  but  conspicuous  in  every 
show-window.  One  picture  represented  an 
imposing,  middle-aged  man,  which  you 
were  told  was  "unser  Kronprinz,"  and  the 
other,  a  handsome,  fine-figured  woman,  was 
"unsere  Lilli  Lehmann."  And  you  were 
looked  at  in  surprise  for  not  knowing  "  our 
Lilli  Lehmann." 

The  Berliners  have  always  spoken  in  a  pos- 
sessive sense  of  this  lady — their  star  of  the 
opera — especially  in  that  year  when  she 
broke  her  contract  with  the  Kaiser  to  accept 
an  engagement  in  America.  It  made  a  great 
talk  there  at  the  time,  but  the  Berliners 
thought  none  the  less  of  her,  and  the  morning 
after  her  debut  in  New  York  the  first  words 

that  greeted  you  in  the  Vaterland  were : 

267 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?  The  Lilli 
Lehmann  has  had  a  great  success  in  Amer- 
ica." 

Fourteen  years  later  this  same  Lilli  Leh- 
mann is  still  having  "  a  great  success  in 
America."  Her  art  is  enduring  as  it  is 
great.  She  is  equally  successful  in  colora- 
ture  and  dramatic  roles;  but  her  physique 
and  voice  are  particularly  fitted  to  the  mythi- 
cal Wagnerian  characters.  Lilli  Lehmann 
imparts  to  these  legends  of  the  Norseland 
all  the  attributes  our  fancy  calls  for.  Her 
Scandinavian  goddess  is  a  creature  of 
mighty  emotions,  heroic  build,  and  a  voice 
at  times  like  the  fierce  north  wind.  Her 
cry  of  the  Walkiire  is  a  revelation  in  the 
art  of  tone-production. 

I  was  to  call  upon  Madame  Lehmann  at 
9:30  A.M.,  and  this  after  a  great  and  long 
performance  the  evening  before.  I  had 
visions  of  the  prima  donna  still  in  bed,  re- 
ceiving her  caller  quite  in  negligee,  and 
sipping  her  coffee,  served  by  a  French  maid, 

while  a  parrot  and  pet  dog  and  flowers  and 

268 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  morning  mail  and  newspapers  combined 
to  form  an  effect  of  artistic  confusion. 

This  makes  a  pleasing  picture,  but  it  is 
not  Lilli  Lehmann.  There  is  no  sense  of 
"  artistic  confusion "  about  her  from  her 
gray-tinged  hair  to  her  grand,  true  voice. 

In  answer  to  the  visitor's  knock  at  her 
room  in  the  Hotel  Netherlands,  she  opened 
the  door  herself,  and  shook  hands  with  true 
German  cordiality. 

The  bed  in  the  adjoining  room  was  al- 
ready made  up,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  a 
late  breakfast;  all  this  at  an  hour  when  it 
is  safe  to  say  half  her  hearers  of  the  eve- 
ning before  were  not  yet  up. 

And  Lilli  Lehmann,  who  in  the  eyes  of 
the  public  is  majestically  arrayed  in  flowing 
robes  and  breastplates  and  silver  shields, 
wore  on  this  occasion,  over  her  plain  serge 
dress,  the  typical  little  fancy  apron — so  dear 
to  the  German  Hausfrau. 

The   Berliners  may  well   call   her  "Our 

Lilli  Lehmann,"  for  she  is  as  unassuming 

to  this  day  as  the  least  of  them. 

269 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

But  altho  she  impresses  you  as  unpreten- 
tious, you  also  feel  at  once  her  great  force 
and  energy.  It  shows  in  her  every  word 
and  movement,  and  also  in  her  business- 
like method  of  being  interviewed. 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  tired,"  was  her  first  re- 
mark as  she  seated  herself  at  a  little  wri- 
ting-desk and  her  visitor  near  by.  "  The 
opera  lasted  so  late ;  I  did  not  get  to  bed 
until  two  o'clock.  But  I  was  waiting  for 
you  this  morning,  and  had  just  prepared  to 
write  down  some  items  you  might  wish  to 
know." 

Then  she  took  a  pencil  and  paper, — and 
what  do  you  suppose  she  wrote  first  .^  These 
are  the  exact  words,  and  she  read  them 
aloud  as  she  wrote : 

"Born — Wiirzburg,  November  24,  1848." 

I  could  not  conceal  some  surprise,  and 
was  obliged  to  explain;  "The  iVmerican 
ladies  so  seldom  give  their  age  that  your 
frankness  is  a  revelation." 

"The   Lilli   Lehmann  "  smiled  and  said: 

"Why  not?     One  is  thereby  no  younger." 

270 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  N.  Y. 

Lehmann  as  Isolde  in  "Tristan  and  Isolde." 


(.      w    •  o  '      t- 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

She  turned  again  to  the  desk,  and  went 
on  with  the  "interview,"  using  her  pencil 
with  great  firmness  and  rapidity  as  she 
wrote  in  German,  and  with  all  possible  ab- 
breviations : 

"  I  was  brought  up  in  Prague,  where  I 
made  my  debut  when  eighteen  years  of  age. 
My  mother  was  my  first  teacher  and  con- 
stant companion.  She  was  herself  a  dra- 
matic soprano,  well  known  as  Maria  Low, 
and  my  father,  too,  was  a  singer." 

"  In  what  opera  did  you  first  appear?  " 

"  It  was  the  '  Magic  Flute,  *  and  I  appeared 
in  one  of  the  lighter  roles ;  but  two  weeks 
later,  during  the  performance,  the  dramatic 
soprano  was  taken  ill,  and  I  then  and  there 
went  on  with  her  role,  trusting  to  my  mem- 
ory after  hearing  it  so  often.  My  mother, 
who  was  in  the  audience  and  knew  I  had 
never  studied  the  part,  nearly  fainted  when 
she  saw  me  come  on  the  stage  as  Pamina." 

Madame  Lehmann's  feats  of  memory  have 
more  than  once  created  a  sensation.  We 
remember  the  astonishment  aroused  in  New 

271 


STARS   OF   THE  OPERA. 

York  music  circles  five  years  ago  when  she 
mastered  the  Italian  text  of  "  Lucrezia  Bor- 
gia "  in  three  days. 

Recurring  to  her  life  in  Prague,  Madame 
Lehmann  further  said : 

"  I  appeared  not  only  in  many  operas,  but 
also  as  an  actress  in  many  plays.  In  those 
days  opera  singers  were  expected  to  be  as 
proficient  in  the  dramatic  side  of  their  art 
as  the  musical,  and  we  were  called  upon  to 
perform  in  all  the  great  tragedies.  But 
nowadays  this  would  be  impossible,  since 
the  operatic  repertoire  has  become  so  tre- 
mendous." 

People  seldom  consider  how  much  larger 
is  the  present  list  of  famous  operas  than  for- 
merly. All  the  Wagnerian  works,  many  of 
Verdi's,  and  most  of  the  French  have  taken 
their  places  in  comparatively  recent  years, 
and  yet  there  is  still  a  demand  for  all  the 
old  operas  too.  The  singer  who  attains 
Wagner  must  at  the  same  time  keep  up  her 
Mozart,  Beethoven,  Gliick,  Rossini,  Meyer- 
beer, and  Bellini. 

272 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

As  the  visitor  mentioned  Bellini,  Madame 
Lehmann  assented.  "  Yes,  we  are  to  give 
'Norma'  here  next  month."  "Norma," 
abounding  in  melody  and  florid  fancies,  is 
as  different  from  Wagner  as  a  cloudless  sky 
from  a  thunder-storm. 

The  divine  art,  like  nature,  has  its  vari- 
ous moods,  and  Wagner  and  Bellini  repre- 
sent two  extremes. 

Among  Wagner's  works,  "  Isolde  "  is  one 
character  to  which  Madame  Lehmann's  tem- 
perament and  physique  are  strikingly  fitted. 
Throughout  the  long  first  act,  wherein  she 
is  almost  constantly  singing,  she  imparts  a 
glorious  impression  of  one  who  thinks  in 
music.  The  fearless,  impassioned  Isolde 
thinks  bitter,  rancorous  thoughts  of  Tris- 
tan, whom  she  abhors,  until  with  fierce  re- 
solve she  hands  him  the  fatal  drink  which, 
unknown  to  herself,  is  a  love-potion.  The 
previous  dearth  of  action  has  created  a  ready 
mood  for  us  to  thrill  and  respond  at  the 
love-frenzy,  the  delirium  which  now  ani- 
mates the  scene  as  these  unwitting  lovers 
i8  273 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

suddenly  find  all  hatred  and  other  mem- 
ories gone  from  their  hearts. 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Wagner 
firmly  believed  in  the  power  of  contrast, 
and  he  purposely  preceded  his  greatest  cli- 
maxes by  what  many  would  deem  an  un- 
wonted length  of  inaction. 

In  1870  Lilli  Lehmann  was  engaged  for 
the  Berlin  Opera-House. 

Americans  can  hardly  appreciate  the  sig- 
nificance of  this  fact;  but  it  means  much. 
The  opera  in  Berlin  is  supported  by  the 
government  and  directly  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  emperor.  The  singers  are  not 
engaged  for  a  season,  but  for  life,  being  en- 
titled to  an  annuity  after  they  retire  from 
the  stage.  Lilli  Lehmann's  contract  was 
signed  by  the  kaiser  during  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war. 

When  asked  if  the  old  Emperor  Wilhelm 

was    musical,    Madame    Lehmann    smiled, 

and  there  was  a  gleam   of  humor  in   her 

eyes: 

"  No,  I  can  not  truthfully  say  that  he  was 

274 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

at  all  musical,  tho  he  was  wonderfully  kind 
and  good  to  all  artists." 

For  fifteen  years  Lilli  Lehmann  sang  in 
Berlin  with  an  occasional  flight  to  Baireuth 
under  the  kaiser's  permission,  where  she 
sang  for  Wagner  himself. 

"  I  was  one  of  the  Rhine  daughters,  and 
also  the  first  Forest  Bird  in  '  Siegfried.'  " 

Wagner's  own  Forest  Bird!  It  is  a  thril- 
ling and  poetic  statement  that  would  be  hard 
to  equal.  Of  all  this  great  master's  charac- 
ters, including  gods  and  demi-gods,  knights 
and  shepherds,  dwarfs  and  giants,  his  most 
original,  and  perhaps  for  this  reason  his 
best-loved  children  of  the  brain,  were,  we 
believe,  his  Rhine  daughters  and  his  Forest 
Bird.  The  former  sing  under  the  water 
laughing  strains  of  mystical  import  and  un- 
earthly sweetness,  while  the  Forest  Bird 
sings  in  the  air — everywhere  unseen,  but 
more  impressive  than  the  greatest  presence. 

This  bird-music  is  not  very  long,  but  it  is 
of  unsurpassed  beauty,  and  the  most  memor- 
able theme  in  the  opera.     The  scene  too  is 

275 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

exceptional  and  powerful  in  its  simplicity — 
only  one  person  on  the  stage.  Siegfried, 
the  inspired  youth,  who  knows  the  speech 
of  bird  and  beast,  is  alone  in  the  forest  when 
he  hears  a  bird  sing.  He  pauses  to  listen, 
as  you  in  the  audience  do  too,  for  the  song 
is  not  a  meaningless  mocking-bird  array  of 
trills  and  cadences,  but  a  tender  strain  that 
bespeaks  the  bird  as  a  prophet.  Siegfried 
tries  to  catch  the  message,  tries  to  see  the 
bird,  and  tries,  too,  to  imitate  its  tones.  He 
cuts  him  a  reed  from  the  water-banks,  and 
shapes  it  and  tests  it  until  he  can  play  upon 
it  the  music  he  hears.  Ah,  we  should  like 
to  have  been  in  that  audience  at  Baireuth 
when  this  Forest  Bird  took  its  first  flight 
into  the  world ! 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  create  a  role,  to  set 
the  standard  by  which  all  later  perform- 
ances shall  be  modeled.  If  the  new  opera 
proves  to  be  a  great  and  lasting  work,  the 
singers  who  created  the  important  roles  are 
always  credited  therewith  and  mentioned. 

They   usually   have   been   selected   by  the 

276 


Copyright  by  Aime  Dupont,  X.  Y. 

Lehmann  as  Venus  in  "  Tannhauser." 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

composer,  and  their  performance  is  the  re- 
sult of  his  best  instruction  as  well  as  their 
own  inspiration.  Madame  Lehmann  has 
"created  "  many  roles,  but  the  most  poetic, 
we  deem,  is  the  Forest  Bird. 

After  writing  with  characteristic  abbrevia- 
tion the  foregoing  fact — " '75-'/^,  Bai- 
reuth,  Rhine  daughter,  I  Forest  Bird " — 
Madame  Lehmann  handed  over  the  paper 
and  asked  "  Is  there  anything  more  I  can 
tell  you?" 

Her  bright  eyes,  clear  complexion,  and 
magnificent  figure  prompted  a  personal 
question : 

"  How  do  you  keep  your  splendid  health, 
and  the  strength  to  work  so  much?  " 

For  this  she  had  a  ready  answer: 

"  I  have  been  a  vegetarian  for  the  past 
five  years." 

In  reply  to  one  more  parting  question, 
Lilli  Lehmann  spoke  words  of  wisdom  that 
are  worthy  of  reflection : 

"Yes,  I  still  practise  and  study  more  than 

ever.     At  the  end  one  is  just  beginning." 

277 


"The  Flying  Dutchman 


5J 


a 


THE   FLYING  DUTCHMAN." 


"  The  Flying  Dutchman  "  is  one  of  the 
most  melodious  of  Wagner's  operas,  and 
also  one  of  the  most  popular  in  Germany. 
Its  soprano  role  is  well  beloved  by  all  Wag- 
nerian singers,  but  for  some  reason  the 
work  is  seldom  given  in  this  country. 
Americans  have  never  had  an  opportunity 
to  hear  Madame  Lehmann  in  this  opera,  but 
it  is  one  in  which  she  is  well  known  abroad. 

"  Der  Fliegende  Hollander"  is  an  early 
offspring  of  Wagner's  genius,  and  was  com- 
posed at  a  time  when  Fate  frowned  upon 
him,  and  poverty  and  despair  were  his 
close  companions.  After  six  v/eeks  of  fe- 
verish labor,  alone  in  hostile  Paris,  Wagner 
presented  his  beloved  score  to  the  orchestra 
of  the  "Conservatoire."  They  promptly 
condemned  it,  which  affords  a  notable  ex- 
ample of  the  change  in  musical  taste.     Por- 

281 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

tions  of  the  "  Flying  Dutchman  "  now  hold 
a  permanent  place  on  French  programs. 

The  plot,  as  well  as  the  music,  is  as  usual 
Wagner's  own.  "A  daring  captain,  after 
frequent  vain  attempts  to  double  the  Cape 
of  Storms,  swears  a  mighty  oath  to  persevere 
throughout  eternity.  The  devil  takes  him 
at  his  word,  and  the  hapless  mariner  is 
doomed  to  roam  the  seas  forever."  Such  is 
the  legend  of  the  Flying  Dutchman,  to 
which  Wagner  has  added  one  redeeming 
clause:  once  in  seven  years  the  wanderer 
may  land  in  search  of  a  faithful  wife.  If 
she  be  true  unto  death  the  curse  shall  be 
lifted. 

Wagner's  music  is  so  powerful  and  abso- 
lutely appropriate  that  it  seems  to  suggest 
the  text,  instead  of  conforming  to  it.  No 
ordinary  tunes  or  conventional  harmonies 
could  adequately  depict  the  roaming,  rest- 
less, Satan  -  chased  sailor.  The  overture 
opens  with  the  curse-theme,  which  seems 
like  the  phantom  ship  itself  as  we  follow  its 

course  throughout  the  introduction.    It  rides 

282 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

over  and  under  and  around  hurricanes  of 
chromatics  and  tremolos.  Chords  sweep  like 
a  deluge  over  the  luckless  theme.  But  as 
neither  rocks  nor  tempest  can  annihilate  the 
accursed  vessel,  so  this  theme  mounts  ever 
uppermost.  On  and  on,  "  Ohne  Rast,  ohne 
Ruh,'"  must  sail  the  Flying  Dutchman.  But 
the  wanderer  in  his  dark  existence  finds 
hope  in  the  salvation-theme,  a  peaceful,  re- 
ligious phrase  that  is  poised  like  a  single 
star  amid  the  tumultuous  elements.  Like 
all  of  Wagner's  overtures,  this  one  has  be- 
come a  favorite  program  piece. 

With  the  ascending  curtain  there  arises 
from  the  orchestra  a  storm  of  restless  trem- 
olos and  shrieking  scales.  The  wind  and 
waves  thus  rendered  in  the  music  are  also 
depicted  on  the  stage.  An  expanse  of  ocean 
occupies  most  of  the  scene,  only  in  front  the 
turbulent  waves  beat  against  a  bleak  Nor- 
wegian coast.  Driven  thither  by  the  ele- 
ments, a  ship  casts  anchor  at  the  shore. 
Daland,  the  captain,    steps  on  land,  while 

his  crew  noisily  pull  up  sails  and  cast  out 

283 


STARS   OF  THE   OPERA. 

cables.  As  they  work  they  shout  in  unison 
a  rude  refrain  that  lends  rhythm  to  their 
movements,  "Ho-lo-jo!  Ho-he!"  This  is 
accompanied  by  surging  waves  of  sound 
from  the  orchestra.  Owing  to  the  sudden 
storm,  this  ship  has  been  carried  seven 
miles  away  from  the  home  port,  to  which 
it  was  returning  after  a  long  voyage. 
There  is  nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  a  south 
wind  to  carry  them  back.  Daland  goes  on 
board  again  and  orders  the  sailors  to  rest. 
He  also  retires,  after  entrusting  the  watch 
to  his  boatswain. 

* 

Altho  this  boatswain  has  no  name,  he  is 
no  insignificant  character,  for  to  him  falls 
one  of  the  loveliest  songs  of  the  opera.  He 
has  a  tenor  voice,  and  is  in  love  with  a 
"blue-eyed  madel."  He  makes  a  tour  of 
the  deck,  and  then  seats  himself  by  the  rud- 
der. The  storm  has  abated,  but  we  occa- 
sionally hear  a  gust  of  chromatics  and  a 
splash  of  chords.  To  ward  off  sleep,  the 
boatswain  sings  of  his  sweetheart,  and  calls 

upon  the  south  wind  to  blow  their  good  ship 

284 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

home.  This  music  is  delightful  and  re- 
freshing as  a  salt  sea  breeze.  The  sailor 
does  not  trouble  himself  with  any  fixed 
standard  of  tempo.  He  sings  like  the  fitful 
wind,  one  moment  "accelerando,"  and  the 
next  "una  poco  moderato."  He  sustains 
the  climaxes  and  indulges  in  sentimental 
"rubatos,"  all  of  which  is  a  touch  of  natu- 
ralness skilfully  introduced  by  the  com- 
poser. The  boatswain  makes  another  tour 
of  the  deck  and  then  renews  his  song;  but 
there  is  this  time  more  languor  in  his  tones. 
The  phrases  are  separated  by  frequent 
"rests,"  the  "moderates"  have  developed 
into  "largos;"  the  "rubatos"  are  exagger- 
ated, and  finally  this  sweet-voiced  boatswain 
falls  asleep. 

Soon  the  clouds  become  black  and  lower- 
ing, the  waves  are  white  and  towering,  and 
the  orchestra  is  like  a  seething  cauldron  of 
sound.  The  conductor  stirs  it  up  more  and 
more,  until  he  brings  to  the  top  that  awful 
curse-theme  of  the  Flying  Dutchman.     We 

lift  our  eyes  to  the  stage,  and  lo !  over  the 

285 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

dark  waters  comes  another  ship,  strange 
and  uncanny  in  appearance,  for  its  sails  are 
blood-red  and  they  hang  upon  masts  that 
are  black  as  night.  With  a  mighty  crash 
this  wanderer  of  the  seas  sinks  anchor 
alongside  the  Norwegian  vessel.  The 
dreaming  boatswain  is  aroused  for  a  mo- 
ment. He  hums  a  snatch  of  his  love-song, 
and  then  once  again  nods  his  head  in  slum- 
ber. A  terrifying  silence  falls  upon  the 
music  as  we  watch  the  ghostly  crew  of  the 
phantom  vessel  noiselessly  furl  those  crim- 
son sails. 

There  is  a  pause,  and  then,  soft  but  im- 
pressive, that  remarkable  curse-motif  an- 
nounces the  approach  of  the  Hollander  him- 
self. He  steps  upon  shore  after  another 
seven  years  of  wandering.  His  stalwart 
figure  is  draped  in  a  black  mantle,  he  wears 
a  full  beard,  and  has  a  baritone  voice. 

The  first  solo  of  the  Hollander  is  most 
interesting;  but  those  who  expect  a  pleas- 
ing tune  with  a  one-two-three  accompani- 
ment will  be  disappointed.     One  is  apt  to 

286 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

think  that  music  must  be  always  beautiful 
to  be  admired,  but  Wagner  has  taught  that 
this  idea  is  erroneous.  Music  should  repre- 
sent what  the  maker  feels,  just  as  painting 
does  what  he  sees ;  and  in  proportion  to  the 
correctness  of  his  representation  is  the  work 
to  be  admired.  As  a  prominent  example  of 
this  fact  in  painting,  mention  may  be  made 
of  Munkacsy's  picture  of  Judas,  which  all 
admire  but  none  call  beautiful.  And  so 
this  solo  of  the  accursed  mariner  is  not 
beautiful,  as  that  term  goes.  How  could  it 
be?  The  weary,  dreary,  condemned  Dutch- 
man communing  with  himself  does  not 
think  of  graceful  melodies  that  delight  the 
senses.  His  phrases,  instead,  are  all  angu- 
lar, bitter,  heavy,  and  despairing.  He  tells 
of  his  longing  for  rest,  and  he  mocks  at  the 
hope  of  finding  true  love.  Too  often  has 
he  been  deceived :  *^  I  wait  and  watch  for 
the  Judgment  Day.  Then  only  shall  I 
rest!" 

The  Hollander  leans  mournfully  against 

a  rock,  and  the  music  subsides,  until  a  light- 

287 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

hearted  melody  directs  our  attention  to  the 
Norwegian  wship.  Daland  has  come  upon 
deck,  and  is  surprised  to  find  another  ship 
alongside.  He  calls  the  boatswain,  who, 
half  awake,  commences  to  hum  his  love- 
song;  but  another  call  from  the  captain 
brings  him  to  his  feet.  They  hasten  to  sig- 
nal the  strange  ship,  but  receive  no  answer; 
whereupon  Daland,  seeing  the  Hollander, 
steps  upon  shore  to  accost  him. 

Politely  but  unconcernedly  the  hero 
makes  answer  to  all  questions,  and  learns, 
in  turn,  that  Daland 's  home  is  but  seven 
miles*  sail  from  here.  The  Hollander  asks 
for  a  night's  lodging,  and  offers  to  pay  lib- 
erally. He  brings  forth  a  casket  of  jewels, 
which  he  declares  is  but  a  sample  of  the 
.cargo  he  carries.  With  bitter  tones  he 
adds:  "  What  joy  are  such  riches  to  me?  I 
have  no  home,  no  wife,  no  child ;  all  my 
wealth  should  be  yours  if  you  could  give 
me  these."  He  astonishes  Daland  with  the 
sudden  question,  "Have  you  a  daughter?" 

and  on  being  answered  in  the  affirmative 

288 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  Hollander  proposes  to  wed  her.  Very 
nobly  does  this  strange  suitor  plead  his 
cause,  his  longing  for  love  and  rest.  The 
music  is  here  truly  beautiful,  for  the  hero 
is  striving  to  win  and  please. 

Captured  by  the  prospect  of  wealth  and 
also  by  the  strange  fascination  of  the  Hol- 
lander, Daland  consents  to  the  proposition. 
Once  again  the  sad  seaman  is  tempted  to 
hope.  The  music  has  become  decisive  and, 
because  of  rapid  tempo,  sounds  quite  joyous. 
On  top  of  this  pleasing  climax  there  comes 
a  happy  cry  from  the  Norwegian  ship :  "  A 
south  wind !  south  wind !  "  The  sailors 
sing  their  "  Ho-lo-jo "  chorus  as  they  let 
down  sails  and  pull  up  anchor.  Daland 
goes  on  board,  and  the  Hollander  promises 
to  follov/.  With  a  breezy  accompaniment 
of  wind  instruments  the  two  ships  sail 
away  and  the  curtain  descends. 

The  prelude  to  the  second  act  carries  us 

from  the  storm-beaten  coast  of  Norway  to 

the  domestic  peace  of  Daland'shome.     The 

composition  is  like  a  brisk  sail  over  smooth 
19  289 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

harmonies.  It  opens  with  the  boatswain's 
song  of  the  south  wind,  and  after  a  succes- 
sion of  undulating  passages  finally  lands 
upon  the  celebrated  spinning-chorus. 

A  capacious  room  in  the  captain's  home 
is  filled  w^ith  a  merry  company  of  maidens, 
who,  with  their  spinning-wheels,  are  work- 
ing together  under  the  watchful  eyes  of 
Frau  Mary.  The  wheels  whir  and  whiz, 
like  a  drone  of  bees,  the  orchestra  keeps  up 
a  continuous  revolving  accompaniment,  and 
even  the  melody,  with  its  ingenious  rhythm, 
simulates  a  whirling  wheel.  The  picture  is 
as  pleasing  as  the  music;  both  are  unique 
and  delightful.  The  girls  spin  industri- 
ously where  the  song  goes  fast,  but  uncon- 
sciously hold  up  with  the  ritardandos,  and 
Frau  Mar)'-  has  frequent  occasion  to  remon- 
strate. 

Only  Senta,  the  captain's  daughter,  does 

not  join  in  the  song.     She  is  sitting  in  a 

big  arm-chair  and  dreamily  regards  a  large 

picture  that  is  hanging  over  the  hearth.     It 

is  an  ideal  portrait  of  the  Flying  Dutchman, 

290 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

such  as  many  seafaring  folk  possess.  Senta 
is  an  imaginative  girl,  and  has  always  been 
fascinated  by  the  "  pale  man  "  on  the  wall 
and  his  story.  She  begs  Frau  Mary  to  sing 
the  ballad  of  the  Flying  Dutchman.  This 
request  being  refused,  Senta  sings  it  her- 
self. Truly  wonderful  is  this  ballad,  w^ith 
its  blustering  accompaniment  and  shivering 
climaxes.  The  final  verse  relates  how 
every  seven  years  the  weary  seaman  lands 
in  search  of  a  faithful  wife,  but  never  yet 
has  he  found  one.  "  False  love!  false  faith! 
Forever  and  ever  must  he  ride  the  seas!  " 

Senta  has  become  so  wrought  up  by  the 
sonof  that  she  now  sinks  back  in  her  chair 
from  exhaustion,  while  the  other  girls  sing 
with  bated  breath  that  beautiful  melody  of 
the  salvation-theme.  "And  will  he  never 
find  her?"  they  ask  with  childlike  credul- 
ity. Senta  suddenly  springs  from  her  chair 
and  sings  out  with  exultant  tones :  "  I  am 
the  one  who  could  save  him  1  I  would  be 
true  till  death!  May  heaven's  angels  send 
him  to  me !  "     This  music  is  of  boundless 

291 


STARS   OF  THE   OPERA. 

intensity ;  the  strongly  accented  accompani- 
ment sweeps  forward  and  recedes  like  angry 
breakers,  while  the  voice  part  soars  above 
like  a  fearless  sea-bird.  "Senta!  Senta! 
Heaven  help  us,  she  has  lost  her  reason !  " 
exclaim  the  astonished  maidens,  and  Frau 
Mary  utters  maledictions  upon  that  "  miser- 
able picture,"  threatening  to  throw  it  out  of 
the  house. 

At  this  moment  Erik,  the  young  hunter 
who  loves  Senta,  hastily  enters,  announcing 
that  her  father's  ship  is  landing.  The 
dreamy  heroine  promptly  revives  at  this 
news,  and  becomes  as  elated  and  excited  as 
any  of  the  girls.  They  all  want  to  rush  out 
and  see  the  ship,  but  Frau  Mary  orders  them 
back,  directing  them,  instead,  to  the  kitchen, 
where  there  is  work  to  be  done  on  account 
of  this  sudden  home-coming.  With  much 
chattering  and  commotion  the  girls  and 
Frau  Mary  go  out,  leaving  Senta  and  Erik 
alone. 

He  detains  her  to  listen  to  his  vows  and 

fears.     Very  tender  and  earnest  is  this  song 

292 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

of  love  and  doubt.  Wagner  knew  well  how 
to  use  the  simple  melody,  which  he  consid- 
ered essential  to  some  emotions  but  out  of 
place  with  others.  Like  the  artist's  fine 
brush,  it  will  not  do  for  painting  storm- 
clouds,  but  in  scenes  of  delicate  delineation 
it  is  used  with  good  effect.  Erik  is  troubled 
about  a  dream  he  had  the  night  before.  To 
the  usual  accompaniment  of  violin  tremolos, 
he  relates  how  he  saw  Senta's  father  bring 
with  him  a  stranger  who  looked  like  that 
picture  on  the  wall.  Already  we  hear  far 
away  beneath  the  tremolos,  soft  but  distinct, 
the  curse-theme  of  the  Flying  Dutchman. 
As  the  dream-song  goes  on  this  ominous 
phrase  comes  nearer,  step  by  step,  always 
in  a  higher  key,  always  louder  and  more 
impressive.  It  represents,  in  fact,  the 
actual  approach  of  the  Hollander.  Senta 
listens  as  though  entranced  while  Erik  tells 
how  he  saw  her  come  forward  and  kneel  at 
the  stranger's  feet.  But  the  "pale  man" 
lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  away 
over  the  sea.     To  Erik's  horror,  Senta  turns 

293 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

toward  the  picture  and  cries  out :  "  He  is 
seeking  me !  I  would  save  him !  "  The 
young  hunter  sadly  goes  away,  believing 
that  she  is  out  of  her  mind. 

Senta  continues  gazing  at  the  picture. 
The  music  has  become  soft  and  slow,  and 
the  curse-theme  pervades  the  air  like  a 
ghostly  presence.  But  the  heroine  sings 
to  herself  that  beautiful  salvation-motif. 
The  phrase  is  finished  with  a  startled  shriek, 
for  the  door  has  opened,  and  there  before 
the  astonished  girl  stands  her  hero — "  der 
Fliegende  Hollander !  "  Daland,  her  father, 
is  also  there,  but  Senta  has  neither  sight  nor 
thought  of  him.  She  stands  immobile  and 
amazed,  her  eyes  never  turning  from  the 
Hollander.  When  Daland  comes  nearer, 
she  grasps  his  hand,  whispering,  "Who  is 
that  stranger?  " 

The    father    has    carefully  prepared    his 

answer,   and    it  is   the    finest   bass  solo  of 

the   opera.      After  telling   Senta   that   the 

stranger  has  come  to  be  her  bridegroom,  he 

turns  to  the  Hollander,  asking,  "  Did  I  ex- 

294 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

aggerate  her  loveliness?  Is  she  not  an 
ornament  to  her  sex?  "  In  this  phrase  the 
listener  is  surprised  with  a  genuine  ad 
libitum  colorature  passage,  a  style  of  musical 
decoration  in  which  Wagner  seldom  in- 
dulges. But  in  the  original  text  this  bit  of 
fioritura  falls  upon  the  word  zieret  ("  or- 
nament"), and  thus  is  a  striking  example 
of  Wagner's  theory  that  music  must  fit  the 
words.  Daland  sings  on  for  some  time, 
until  he  notices  that  neither  Senta  nor  the 
Hollander  accord  him  any  attention.  They 
are  still  gazing  at  each  other,  and  the  father 
very  wisely  goes  out. 

The  leading  theme  of  his  aria  slowly  de- 
parts from  the  orchestra,  and  then,  softly 
and  hesitatingly,  the  curse-theme  and  sal- 
vation-motif enter  side  by  side.  They  move 
around  a  little,  as  tho  to  make  themselves 
at  home,  and  then  begins  the  great  duet 
between  soprano  and  baritone. 

The  Hollander  recognizes  in  Senta  the 
angel  of  his  dreams,  and  she  finds  his  voice 
greeting  her  like  familiar  music.     A  beau- 

295 


STARS   OF   THE  OPERA. 

tiful  melody  is  borne  upon  the  orchestra 
like  a  boat  on  the  breast  of  a  stream.  As 
the  graceful  structure  floats  past,  the  soprano 
and  then  the  baritone  enter  upon  it.  They 
glide  on  together,  over  smooth  places,  upon 
tremulous  undercurrents,  but  finally  touch 
upon  the  salvation-theme,  which,  through- 
out the  opera,  is  typical  of  the  seaman's 
haven.  It  often  arises  above  stormy  pas- 
sages like  a  mirage  of  the  longed-for  harbor. 

After  this  vocal  excursion  the  Hollander 
asks  Senta  if  she  is  willing  to  abide  by  her 
father's  choice  and  to  vow  eternal  faith. 
Her  consent  is  glad  and  free.  There  is 
another  ensemble  introducing  a  new  and 
stirring  joy-theme.  The  highest  note  al- 
ways occurs  upon  the  word  faith,  thus  ful- 
filling the  substance  of  the  text,  which  is, 
"  Faith  above  all !  " 

Daland  reenters  and  is  delighted  to  find 

such  unity  of  voice  and  purpose.     He  wishes 

the  engagement  announced  at  the  evening 

fete  which  his  sailors  will  have  to  celebrate 

their  home-coming.     Senta  repeats  her  vow 

296 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA, 

to  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  the  act  closes 
with  an  exhilarating  trio. 

Wagner  makes  his  orchestral  preludes 
conform  to  a  distinct  purpose — that  of  con- 
necting the  acts.  So  with  the  next  intro- 
duction we  hear  the  joyous  theme  of  the 
recent  duet  gradually  modulated  into  a 
whispering  memory  of  the  boatswain's  song. 
This,  in  turn,  develops  into  a  new  and  noisy 
nautical  refrain,  that  is  continued  till  the 
curtain  rises,  and  then  is  sung  by  the  Nor- 
wegian sailors  who  are  on  the  deck  of  their 
ship.  They  are  merry-making.  The  ship 
is  illuminated  with  gay  lanterns,  as  are  also 
the  tavern  and  houses  in  the  foreground. 
But  not  so  the  stranger's  vessel  that  lies 
alongside  at  the  back  of  the  stage.  It  is 
engulfed  in  gloom  and  silence  like  the  grave. 
The  gay  Norwegian  chorus  has  a  peculiar 
rhythm  that  suggests  the  flapping  of  sail- 
cloth in  a  brisk  wind ;  it  has  sharp,  rugged 
accents  and  a  spirited  tempo.  The  song  is 
ended   with  a  regular   hornpipe  dance   on 

deck.     This  bewitching  dance-melody  seems 

297 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

• 

thrown  in  to  show  what  Wagner  could  do 
in  that  line  if  he  wanted  to. 

Some  maidens  come  from  the  tavern  with 
a  basketful  of  provisions.  While  the  sailors 
continue  dancing  to  the  gay  orchestral  ac- 
companiment, the  girls  sing  among  them- 
selves in  quite  another  strain.  As  their 
conversation  should  be  most  prominent,  the 
dance-melody  is  promptly  changed  from 
major  to  minor,  which  always  gives  a  sub- 
duing and  receding  effect  like  "  scumbling 
over  "  in  painting. 

The  girls  go  toward  the  Hollander's  ship, 

intending  their  provisions  for  the  strangers, 

who  seem  to  be  sleeping  profoundly.     The 

girls  call  to  them,  but  only  a  ghostly  silence 

rewards  their  efforts.     They  sing  a  winning 

waltz  phrase  inviting  the  strangers  to  join 

their  fete ;  they  offer  every  inducement  to 

arouse  the  silent  crew,  and  finally  resort  to 

a  great  outcry :    "  Seamen  !    Seamen  !    wake 

up!  "     But  again  only  prolonged  stillness  is 

the  answer. 

The  well-meaning  maidens  are  thoroughly 

298 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

frightened,  and  they  hasten  away  after  hand- 
ing their  basket  to  the  Norwegian  sailors. 
These  proceed  to  enjoy  the  contents.  They 
fill  their  wine-glasses  and  repeat  the  merry 
opening  chorus. 

In  the  mean  time  the  sea  surrounding  the 
Hollander's  ship  becomes  suddenly  turbu- 
lent, a  weird  blue  light  illumines  the  vessel, 
and  its  crew,  which  were  before  invisible, 
are  seen  to  move  about. 

The  Norwegians  cease  singing,  while 
their  ghostly  neighbors  begin  to  chant 
in  hollow  tones  that  terrible  curse-theme. 
Tremolos  and  chromatics  descend  upon  the 
orchestra  like  a  storm  of  hail  and  rain  that 
almost  drown  the  singers'  voices.  To  a 
demoniacal  refrain  full  of  startling  crescen- 
dos  and  pauses  they  sing  of  their  gloomy 
captain  , 

"Who  has  gone  upon  land  to  win  a  maiden's  hand." 

Then  they  laugh  an  unearthly  "  Ha!  ha!  " 

The  Norwegian  sailors  have  listened   at 

first   with    wonder   and   then    with  horror. 

Like  children  afraid  in  the  dark,  they  decide 

299 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA, 

to  sing  as  loud  as  they  can.  So  their  gay 
sailors'  chorus  rings  out  above  the  steady 
curse-theme  of  the  Hollander's  crew.  The 
Norwegians  urge  each  other  to  sing  louder. 
Three  times  they  start  their  song  in  a  higher 
key,  but  that  fearful  refrain  from  the  phan- 
tom ship  overcomes  every  other  sound.  The 
Norwegians  are  too  terrified  to  continue. 
They  cross  themselves  and  hurry  below 
deck.  The  sign  of  the  cross  arouses  another 
mocking  laugh  from  the  crew  of  the  Flying 
Diitchinan.  Then  sudden  silence  falls  upon 
them.  The  blue  flame  disappears  and  dark- 
ness hangs  over  all,  while  in  the  orchestra 
there  is  a  long-sustained  note,  and  then  one 
soft  minor  chord  like  the  shutting  of  a  door 
upon  the  recent  musical  scene. 

The  succeeding  harmonies  are  of  another 
character,  as  distinct  as  a  new.  stage-setting. 
A  phrase  that  well  simulates  hurried  foot- 
steps accompanies  the  hasty  entrance  of 
Senta  and  Erik,  who  is  much  agitated.  He 
has  just  heard  of  her  engagement  to  the 

stranger,   and   can   scarce    believe   it.     He 

300 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

upbraids  and  pleads  in  one  breath,  while 
Senta  begs  him  to  desist.  But  the  despair- 
ing Erik  kneels  before  her  and  sings  with 
grief-stricken  tones  of  their  past  love.  Like 
all  of  Erik's  music,  this  cavatine  is  simple 
and  sincere,  as  one  would  expect  from  a 
peasant  lad. 

While  he  is  kneeling  before  her  the  Hol- 
lander comes  upon  the  scene  unobserved. 
With  tones  as  furious  as  the  orchestra  ac- 
companiment he  cries  out :  "  Lost !  My  hap- 
piness is  lost !  Senta,  farewell !  "  He  sum- 
mons his  crew  to  haul  up  anchor  and  let 
down  sails.  "  False  love !  false  faith !  I 
must  wander  the  seas  forever!  " 

A  tempestuous  trio  follows  the  Hollander's 

outcry.     Senta  reiterates  her  vow,  and  with 

intense  fervor  declares  he  must  not  leave 

her.     Maidens  and  sailors  rush  to  the  scene, 

but  all  stand  back   in  amazement  as  they 

hear  the   stranger   announce:    "You  know 

me  not,   else  had  you  ne'er  received  me. 

My  ship  is  the  terror  of  all  good  people.     I 

am  called  Der  Fliegende  Hollander !  "    With 

301 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

this  word  he  springs  upon  board ;  the  crim- 
son sails  expand  upon  the  black  masts,  and 
the  ship  leaves  shore;  while  the  ghostly- 
crew  chant  their  blood-curdling  "Jo-ho- 
ho!" 

But  this  is  our  last  hearing  of  the  curse- 
theme.  Senta  has  rushed  upon  a  high  rock 
projecting  into  the  sea.  With  full  voice 
and  soaring  tones  she  calls  to  the  receding 
ship :  "  My  vow  was  true !  I  am  faithful 
unto  death !  " — whereupon  she  throws  her- 
self into  the  waves. 

No  sooner  has  she  done  so  than  the  phan- 
tom vessel  sinks  from  sight.  The  music 
also  tumbles  down  a  tremendous  chromatic ; 
then  it  mounts  again,  changing  from  minor 
to  major,  which  gives  an  effect  of  sudden 
peace.  The  Hollander  has  found  true  love. 
He  rescues  Senta,  and  we  see  him  clasping 
her  in  his  arms,  while  the  chords  of  the  sal- 
vation-theme rise  above  the  other  harmonies 
like  the  spires  of  a  beautiful  city.  The 
haven  has  been  reached  at  last. 


302 


Melba, 

the  Australian 
Nightingale 


NELLIE   MELBA, 


MELBA,   THE  AUSTRALIAN   NIGHT- 
INGALE. 

Some  years  ago  in  London,  before  the 
name  of  Melba  had  become  a  household 
word,  there  was  a  performance  of  Aida  at 
Covent  Garden  which  was  attended  by  many, 
merely  for  the  sake  of  the  opera.  The 
overture  was  well  given  and  the  opening 
numbers  well  sung.  The  tenor  was  so  fine 
that  those  who  did  not  know  supposed  him 
to  be  the  star  of  the  evening,  and  they 
scarcely  noticed  a  slender  figure  who  pres- 
ently came  forward  in  the  garb  of  an  Ethio- 
pian slave.  After  her  first  recitative  notes, 
which  were  unimportant,  most  of  the  audi- 
ence forgot  all  about  her,  and  became  lost 
in  studying  the  orchestral  music  and  admir- 
ing the  tenor's  voice.  There  was  more 
singing;  a  bit  of  ensemble;  much  pleasing 

harmony,  and  an  effect  of  rhythm  or  some- 
20  305 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

thing  that  gradually  caused  every  pulse  to 
quicken,  and  stirred  every  soul  in  a  strange, 
unaccountable  way,  until  suddenly  they 
realized  that  it  was  not  the  rhvthm,  or  the 
harmony,  or  the  orchestra,  or  the  tenor,  but 
one  soprano  voice,  whose  tones  seemed  to 
penetrate  all  space  and  soar  to  all  heights 
and  thrill  all  hearts  in  a  manner  that  was 
overpowering ! 

The  slave  girl  was  singing.  It  was  a  new 
star  from  the  Southern  hemisphere  just 
beginning  to  appear  in  the  North.  A  new 
name  had  been  added,  and  was  soon  to  be 
heard  by  all  who  had  an  ear  to  hear — Melba, 
the  Australian  nightingale ! 

All  critics  agree  that  the  quality  of  her 
voice  has  never  in  the  annals  of  music  been 
surpassed.  In  furnishing  Melba  her  name, 
which  is  a  diminutive  of  Melbourne,  the  far 
continent  has  sprung  into  a  musical  promi- 
nence it  never  before  attained.  One  could 
hardly  have  a  beginning  farther  removed 
from  the  "center  of  art,"  as  Paris  is  usually 

called,  than  did  Madame  Melba.     But  she 

306 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

was  endowed  with  all  the  gifts  that  nature 
could  bestow:  good  looks,  good  health,  and 
a  voice  so  perfectly  placed  that  even  when 
she  talked  it  was  music,  and  her  very  laugh 
was  a  song.  She  had,  besides,  true  musical 
talent,  inherited  from  her  father,  who  has  a 
fine  baritone  voice  and  sings  to  this  day  in 
the  church  choir  of  Colby  Abbin,  Australia. 
But  best  of  all,  Nellie  Mitchell,  as  she  was 
then  known,  had  the  perseverance  to  work 
and  study  in  spite  of  her  isolated  life  in  an 
inland  province.  The  story  of  her  early 
struggles  is  best  told  in  her  own  words,  as 
repeated  in  an  article  by  Harry  Steele 
Morrison : 

"  You  know  we  lived  in  Melbourne  only  a 
part  of  each  year,  and  when  we  were  in  the 
wilderness  it  was  not  easy  to  get  servants, 
so  it  became  my  duty  to  help  with  the  house- 
work. Before  I  was  seven  years  old  I  could 
wash  dishes  and  dry  them  as  well  as  any 
one,  and  I  really  enjoyed  it.  It  was  better 
than  having  nothing  at  all  to  do,  which  was 
usually  our  condition  on  the  ranch.     It  was 

307 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

not  always  easy  for  me  to  gratify  my  desire 
for  music.  I  taught  myself  a  great  deal, 
and  with  the  help  of  my  Aunt  Lizzie  I  was 
finally  able  to  play  very  well.  Then  I  took 
up  the  study  of  music  in  Melbourne,  tho  I 
never  thought  seriously  of  making  it  my 
profession.  It  was  a  great  delight  to  me, 
however,  and  I  remember  my  great  disap- 
pointment when  the  family  once  moved  to 
a  house  where  there  was  no  piano.  Of 
course  none  was  to  be  had  in  those  back- 
woods ;  but  father  pacified  me  by  procuring 
a  concertina.  I  played  on  that  for  months. 
On  Sundays,  when  the  traveling  minister 
came  along,  I  played  at  the  service  which 
he  held  in  our  parlor.  I  never  thought 
much  of  singing,  tho  at  this  time  I  was 
anxious  to  become  a  great  pianist.  I  went 
along  day  by  day  studying  as  much  as  I 
could,  and  almost  my  only  happiness  was 
found  in  playing  and  singing.  I  mastered 
the  pipe  organ  and  several  other  instru- 
ments, and  in  Melbourne  I  used  to  practise  in 

one  of  the  churches  every  afternoon.     Then 

308 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

I  suddenly  arrived  at  a  determination  to 
do  something  with  my  voice.  It  seemed  a 
shame  to  let  it  lie  quiet,  and  I  decided  to 
make  some  use  of  it.  So  I  studied  harder 
than  ever,  and,  after  appearing  occasionally 
for  two  years  in  Australia,  my  friends  urged 
me  to  go  to  Europe  for  study,  and  I  followed 
their  advice.  I  went  at  once  to  Paris,  and 
placed  myself  under  dear  Madame  Mar- 
chesi. 

"  I  will  never  forget  the  day  I  presented 
myself  at  her  door.  I  was  rather  awkward 
then,  and  decidedly  shy,  and  since  I  was  by 
no  means  rich  I  feared  that  she  would  re- 
fuse me  as  a  pupil.  I  was  almost  fainting 
when  she  entered  the  room,  but  gradually 
I  recovered  my  self-possession,  and  when 
she  asked  me  to  sing  for  her  I  was  feeling 
as  well  as  ever.  It  seemed  to  me  that  my 
voice  was  in  poor  condition,  and  I  almost 
dreaded  her  verdict.  My  apprehensions 
were  without  reason,  however,  for  the  dear 
woman  took  both  my  hands  in  hers  and  told 
me  that  some  day  I  would  be  her  greatest 

309 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

pupil  if  only  I  would  work  and  persevere. 

.   .   .  Two  years  passed  away — two  years  of 

such  work  as  few  women  go  through  when 

studying   music.     I  was   anxious    to  make 

my  debut  as  soon  as  possible,  for  my  funds 

were  by  no  means  large,  and  I  needed  the 

money  which  would  come  when  once  I  had 

appeared  in  public.     So  I  worked  both  night 

and  day.     Sometimes  the  madame  said  that 

I  tried  to  do  too  much,  but  I  told  her  that 

every  hour  was  precious  to  me,   .   .   .  I  have 

worked  almost  as  hard  since  my  debut  as 

before. 

"  A  prima  donna's  working  days  are  never 

over  so  long  as  she  is  before  the  public.     I 

am   constantly    studying    some    new    role, 

whether  I  expect  to  sing  it  or  not.     If  one 

does  not  learn  new  parts  her  art  is  sure  to 

stagnate,  and  progress  is  the  surest  way  to 

success  in  music.     I  think  I  would  rather 

not  sing  at  all  than  always  to  sing  the  same. 

Each  time  I  try  to  do  better  than  before,  and 

in  this  way  my  work  is  made  interesting. 

I  shall  always  keep  on  working  just  as  hard 

310 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

as  ever,  for  I  find  that  the  only  happy  way 
of  living." 

Some  one  has  remarked  that  the  ease  of 
Melba's  singing  is  positively  audacious !  for 
she  toys  with  the  most  time-honored  diffi- 
culties.     She  will  start  a  high  note  with- 
out  any   preparation,    with    apparently   no 
breath  and  no  change  of  the  lips.     Faint  at 
first  as  the  "  fabric  of  a  dream, "  it  is  followed 
by  the  gradual  grandeur  of  a  glorious  tone, 
until  finally  it  attains  the  full  zenith  of  a 
crescendo.     Straight  and  true  as  a  beam  of 
light,  it  is  called  in  France  /a  voix  blajtche. 
All  the  Italian  operas  afford  a  good  medium 
for  the  display  of  her  powers,  and  the  more 
intricate  the  music,  in  point  of  execution, 
the  more  suitable  it  seems  to  be.     In  "  Lucia 
di  Lammermoor  "  there  is  one  cadenza  in  the 
fourth  act — the  mad  scene — which,  if  alone 
on  a  program  with    Melba's  name,   would 
invariably    "crowd    the   house."       It   is    a 
veritable  frolic  to  hear  her  in  this.     She  is 
pacemaker,  as  it  were,  to  the  flute,  which 
always  repeats  what  she  sings.      It  is  the 


STARS    OF   THE  OPERA. 

prettiest  race  ever  run;  and  when  at  the 
finish  the  timekeeper  brings  down  his 
baton,  the  audience  cheers  itself  hoarse  for 
the  winner.  Like  all  great  prima  donnas, 
Madame  Melba  has  a  home  of  her  own,  to 
which  she  hies  in  the  summer.  It  is  called 
'*  Fernley  "  and  is  situated  at  Maidenhead, 
England. 

We  imagine  these  song-birds  during  the 
hot  months  resting  luxuriantly  in  their 
various  retreats — Melba  in  her  English 
manor,  Calve  in  her  French  chateau,  Jean 
de  Reszke  on  his  Polish  estate,  Eames  in 
her  Italian  castle,'  and  Patti,  too,  at  "  Craig  y 
Nos."  But  it  is  hardly  an  accurate  picture, 
for  rest  to  the  artist  still  means  work.  They 
study  all  summer,  every  one  of  them,  and 
entertain  other  artists,  who  work  with  them, 
or  at  any  rate  who  contribute  to  the  per- 
petual whirl  of  music  in  which  they  live. 

A  very  good  idea  of  the  home  life  of  these 

song-queens  was  given  to  me  by  a  young 

lady  who  visited  one  of  them  for   several 

months. 

312 


Melba  as  Juliet  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  " 


•       «  (         s.  t       ' 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "it  was  posi- 
tively depressing-  to  be  near  so  much  talent 
and  genius.  Why  in  the  drawing-room 
they  would  be  talking  in  seven  or  eight 
languages;  and  some  one  would  improvise 
at  the  piano  while  another  would  take  a 
violin  and  join  in  with  the  most  wonderful 
cadenzas,  and  then  perhaps  the  piano- 
player  would  step  aside  and  some  one  else 
would  slide  into  his  place  and  continue  the 
improvisation  the  first  one  had  begun ;  and 
so  on,  all  the  time,  until  really  I  began  to 
feel  just  about  as  small  and  worthless  as  a 
little  pinch  of  dust!  " 


3^3 


••  Lakme 


5J 


"LAKME." 

Lakme  was  one  of  Patti's  most  successful 
roles,  and  very  few  other  singers  have  ven- 
tured to  attempt  it.  But  Madame  Melba 
includes  it  in  her  repertoire,  and  a  great 
treat  is  in  store  for  New  Yorkers  when  the 
managerial  difficulties  in  the  way  of  its  pro- 
duction are  sufficiently  overcome  for  her  to 
present  it. 

"  Lakme  "  is  composed  by  Delibes.  This 
name  at  once  recalls  that  exquisite  "piz- 
zicato" from  the  ballet  "Sylvia,"  a  musical 
fragment  that  has  floated  around  the  world 
and  stuck  to  the  programs  of  every  land. 
The  same  delicate  fancy  and  witcher}'  that 
characterize  the  ballet  are  also  prominent 
in  the  opera.  His  style  is  perhaps  the 
furthest  removed  from  Wagner  of  any 
modern  composer.  "  Lakme  "  has  no  cres- 
cendo worth  mentioning,  and  the  themes 
are,  for  the  most  part,  left  to  take  care  of 

317 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

themselves ;  but  every  phrase  is  fascinating, 
and  there  is  never  a  tedious  passage. 

The  prelude  opens  in  the  minor  key  with 
a  group  of  octaves  erect  and  solemn  as  pine 
trees.  The  next  phrase  starts  up  like  a  blue 
flame  darting  from  obscurity — a  fantastic 
measure  with  wild  harmonies  that  plainly 
suggest  India  as  Lakme's  home.  A  pathetic 
wail  from  the  flute  offsets  this  elfish  inter- 
lude; the  gloom  of  the  minor  still  hangs 
over  all,  and  the  persistent  tremolo  of  the 
violins  becomes  oppressive  as  the  perfume 
of  magnolias.  It  is  like  a  forest  at  mid- 
night. Suddenly  the  gloom  and  stillness 
are  dispersed  by  the  love-theme  of  the  opera, 
which  is  in  the  major  key,  and  consequently 
has  a  purifying  effect.  Major  and  minor 
are  the  oxygen  and  nitrogen  of  the  musical 
atmosphere. 

A  peculiar,  rhythmical  beating  of  the 
triangle  accompanies  the  rising  of  the  cur- 
tain, which  reveals  a  luxuriant  garden  en- 
closed by  a  bamboo  fence.  At  the  back  is 
a  little  river,  and  a  modest  dwelling  stands 

318 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

on  the  bank ;  but  a  pretentious  idol  at  one 
side  characterizes  the  place  as  a  sanctuary. 
Day  is  breaking,  and  as  the  light  increases 
those  soft,  metallic  tones  of  the  triangle 
penetrate  the  air  like  sunbeams.  Nilikan- 
the,  a  Brahmin  priest  and  owner  of  the 
dwelling,  comes  forward  with  two  slaves, 
who  open  the  bamboo  gates,  admitting  a 
group  of  Hindu  devotees,  who  prostrate 
themselves  before  the  idol.  Beneath  the 
radiance  of  those  unceasing  triangle  tones 
arises  a  languid  prayer,  soft  as  the  gray 
morning  mist,  after  which  Nilikanthe  ad- 
dresses the  worshipers.  He  refers  to  their 
recent  English  conquerors,  who  have  "  dis- 
placed our  gods  and  devastated  our  temples. " 
His  tones  mount  higher  and  ring  out  with 
religious  ecstasy  until  he  causes  a  sudden 
hush.  The  music  of  invisible  harps  fills  the 
air,  and  as  the  Hindus  again  kneel  a 
woman's  voice,  like  a  clarion  call,  renders 
an  incantation  that  is  rare  and  wondrous. 
It  sounds  like  the  song  of  an  angel,  but  it  is 
only  Lakme,  the  Brahmin's  daughter.     She 

319 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

comes  forward  and  mingles  her  prayer  with 
those  of  the  people.  Weird  and  strange, 
like  the  tones  of  a  wild  bird,  her  voice  soars 
above  the  chorus,  filling  the  air  with  reck- 
less trills  and  soft  staccatos.  The  worship- 
ers arise  and  go  out,  leaving  Lakme  and 
her  father  alone.  She  is  a  "child  of  the 
gods,"  and  her  life  is  dedicated  to  Brahma. 
Nilikanthe  declares  it  is  her  pure  influence 
that  protects  their  sacred  abode  from  the 
enemy.  He  leaves  her  for  a  time  in  charge 
of  Mallika,  a  trusty  slave. 

When  he  is  gone  the  music  assumes  a 
lighter  mood,  while  mistress  and  maid  look 
about  for  diversion.  After  removing  her 
jewels  and  placing  them  upon  a  stone  table, 
Lakme  proposes  a  row  on  the  river.  The 
music  of  this  scene  is  fraught  with  a  tropical 
heat  and  midday  languor — dreamy,  drowsy 
violin  tremolos  that  suggest  the  drone  of 
bees.  The  two  maidens  render  a  duet 
whose  words — 

"Ah.  we'll  glide, 
With  the  tide— " 
320 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

are  set  to  music  that  seems  to  sing  itself. 
It  is  a  fountain  of  melody  with  flowing 
rhythm  and  rippling  runs,  staccatos  like 
drops  of  water,  and  trills  that  are  light  as 
bubbles.  The  singers  step  into  the  boat, 
and  we  hear  their  song  far  down  the  stream, 
soft  as  a  shadow  and  lovely  as  a  dream. 

After  a  moment's  silence  a  new  element 
comes  forward — a  party  of  English  sight- 
seers. Their  appearance  in  grand  opera 
seems  to  us  as  much  an  invasion  as  their 
presence  in  India  does  to  the  Hindu.  After 
the  costume  of  Lakme,  which  is  all  spangles 
and  bangles  and  gauze  and  fringe,  we  are 
astonished  to  see  the  modern  English  waist- 
coats, fashionable  bonnets,  and  long-trained 
skirts.  But  it  is  all  compatible  with  facts 
and  history.  Gerald  is  an  officer  in  the 
army;  Ellen,  his  fiancee,  is  a  daughter  of 
the  governor;  the  other  couple  are  their 
friends,  and  Mrs.  Benson  is  the  chaperone. 

To  enter  this  enclosure,  the  party  have 
had  to  force  an  opening  in  the  bamboo.  It 
is  evident  trespassing,  but  they  are  too  un- 

21  321 


STARS    OF   THE    OPERA. 

concerned  to  care.  Their  first  rollicking 
ensemble  is  an  interesting  evidence  of  the 
composer's  ability  to  change  from  the  Hin- 
du to  the  English  type.  Instead  of  weird, 
uncivilized  cadenzas,  these  are  plain,  Chris- 
tianlike harmonies,  such  as  we  have  been 
brought  up  to  and  can  anticipate.  Indeed,, 
this  song  recalls  Arthur  Sullivan  in  his  best 
mood. 

After  inspecting  the  idol  and  various 
points  of  interest,  the  party  discover  Lak- 
me's  jewels.  Ellen  admires  their  work- 
manship, and  Gerald  proposes  to  sketch 
them ;  but  Mrs.  Benson  urges  the  party 
away.  They  all  go  excepting  Gerald,  who 
insists  on  copying  the  jewels.  He  prepares 
his  sketching  materials  and  is  apparently  in 
haste;  but  true  to  the  precepts  of  grand 
opera,  he  first  sings  to  us  a  long  and  beautiful 
aria  about  "taking  the  design  of  a  jewel." 

By  the  time  he  has  sustained  the  last  high 

tone    through    five    measures,    Lakme   and 

Mallika  have  finished  their  row  upon  the 

river.      Gerald   conceals  himself   behind  a 

322 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

shrub  as  they  enter.  The  undulating 
melody  of  their  boat-song  is  rendered  by 
the  orchestra,  first  softly  and  then  increas- 
ing-, until  it  ends  with  a  sforzando  chord  as 
the  boat  touches  shore. 

Lakme  brings  forward  an  armful  of  flow- 
ers as  an  offering  to  the  idol,  and  she  sings 
a  tender  little  song  whose  pathetic  melody 
belies  the  text,  which  constantly  asserts,  "  I 
am  happy. "  The  accompaniment  is  a  simple 
violin  arpeggio,  swaying  back  and  forth 
upon  the  melody  like  a  butterfly  on  a  flower. 
Between  the  verses  it  flutters  up  in  a  fanci- 
ful cadenza,  but  soon  returns,  and,  alighting 
on  the  melody,  it  continues  to  sway  as  before. 

Great  is  Lakme's  indignation  on  perceiv- 
ing Gerald,  the  intruder.  As  she  goes 
toward  him,  her  every  step  is  emphasized 
by  a  resolute  chord  in  the  orchestra. 

"  Leave  at  once  !  "  she  commands.  "  This 
ground  is  sacred,  and  I  am  a  child  of  the 
gods!" 

But  Gerald  has  fallen  hopelessly  in  love 
with  the  pretty  priestess,   and  he  loses  no 

323 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

time  in  telling  her.  No  one  has  ever  dared 
to  so  address  Lakme,  and  she  is  incensed  at 
his  boldness.  She  warns  him  that  death 
will  be  the  penalty  of  his  rash  trespassing 
unless  he  goes  at  once.  But  Gerald  only- 
repeats  his  sweeping  song  of  infatuation. 

At  last,  moved  to  admiration  by  his  cour- 
age, Lakme  ventures  to  ask  by  what  god  is 
he  inspired.  Like  ripples  of  sunlight  are 
the  next  measures,  wherein  he  tells  her  that 
the  God  of  Love  makes  him  fearless. 

Interested  in  this  new  deity,  the  Hindu 
maiden  repeats  after  him  the  sparkling 
words  and  music.  She  sings  timidly  and  a 
tone  too  low,  but  Gerald  leads  his  ready 
pupil  into  the  right  key,  and  they  sing  to- 
gether with  full  voice  this  most  fascinating 
melody.  The  final  rapturous  tone  has 
scarcely  subsided  when  Lakme  hears  her 
father  approach. 

Complying  with  her  entreaties,  Gerald 
departs  just  in  time  for  Nilikanthe  to  per- 
ceive the  broken  fence.  He  vows  ven- 
geance upon  the  profane  foe  who  has  dared  to 

324 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

enter  here.  His  followers  second  the  cry, 
while  Lakme  stands  aside  in  fear  and 
trembling. 

Tambourines  and  fifes  predominate  in  the 
next  orchestral  prelude.  It  is  a  miniature 
marche  niilitaire,  and  unmistakably  English. 
The  second  act  discloses  a  public  square 
filled  with  Indian  shops  and  bazars.  It  is 
the  occasion  of  a  great  festival  at  the  pagoda. 
Merchants  and  promenaders  occupy  the 
stage,  and  their  opening  chorus  is  all  bick- 
ering and  bargaining.  The  music  is  very 
ingenious.  A  free  use  of  harmonic  dis- 
cords, dazzling  scales  that  seem  to  clash 
with  their  bass,  and  chromatics  that  run 
into  each  other  gives  an  effect  of  Oriental 
extravagance — gay  colors  upon  crumbling 
walls,  jewels  over  rags. 

The  chorus  continues  until  a  bell  an- 
nounces the  beginning  of  the  festival  and 
time  for  the  venders  to  disperse.  They 
slowly  depart  and  give  place  to  the  ballet, 
without  which  Delibes  would  hardly  be 
himself. 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  specialties 
that  different  composers  unconsciously  as- 
sume. Liszt  seemed  to  revel  in  rhapsodies; 
while  the  alliteration,  "Schubert's  Songs," 
comes  uppermost  in  spite  of  our  knowl- 
edge that  he  wrote  some  eleven  hundred 
other  compositions.  Bach  invented  more 
fugues  than  any  one  else ;  while  Handel 
made  his  most  lasting  impression  with  ora- 
torios. Symphonies  and  sonatas  were  the 
life-work  of  Beethoven  ;  while  Chopin  had  a 
particular  fancy  for  nocturnes.  And  Men- 
delssohn !  With  all  deference  to  his  greater 
works,  it  must  be  conceded  that  "Songs 
Without  Words  "  are  inseparably  linked  with 
his  name.  Verdi  with  his  tremendous  range 
of  operas  has  had  little  time  for  anything 
else.  The  list  could  be  extended  to  almost 
any  length  ;  but  we  will  only  add  that  Czerny 
is  known  for  his  scale  exercises  and  Kullak 
for  his  octaves;  while  Weber,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  recent  critic,  "  is  famous  because 
he  invited  all  the  world  to  waltz!  " 

But  to  return  to  Delibes  and  his  ballets. 

326 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

The  present  one  is  divided  into  several 
movements — the  first  being  slow  but  of 
throbbing  rhythm,  while  in  the  second  one 
the  melody  whirls  and  spins  around  like  a 
top.  It  is  constantly  whipped  up  by  the 
conductor's  baton,  and  the  dizzy  pace  con- 
tinues until  this  merry  melody  bumps  against 
a  substantial  chord. 

After  the  ballet  Lakme  and  her  father 
come  forward.  They  are  disguised  as  pil- 
grim mendicants,  the  better  to  enable  Nili- 
kanthe  to  seek  out  his  foe.  It  must  be 
understood  that  this  Hindu  thirst  for  ven- 
geance is  a  matter  of  religious  belief,  and  the 
music  plainly  impresses  this  fact.  A  weird 
theme  that  was  prominent  in  the  overture 
recurs  as  Nilikanthe  explains  that  the  wrath 
of  heaven  must  be  appeased  with  the  blood 
of  a  victim.  He  has  cleverly  surmised  that 
Lakme  was  the  attraction  inducing  the 
stranger  to  trespass  on  sacred  ground. 
Confident  that  every  one  will  attend  this 
great  festival,  the  Brahmin  has  brought  his 
daughter  as  a  decoy.     She  plays  the  role  of 

327 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

a  street  ballad-singer,  and  is  at  the  merciless 
command  of  her  father.  He  bids  her  look 
gay  and  sing  with  full  voice  so  as  to  attract 
a  crowd.  The  orchestra  gives  her  the  key- 
note, and  then,  like  a  necromancer  perform- 
ing wonders  with  a  coin,  she  executes  a 
cadenza  that  bewilders  and  dazzles  the 
senses.  Her  tones  soar  away  like  carrier- 
birds,  and  they  bring  the  people  from  far 
and  near  to  hear  the  wondrous  singing. 
When  a  crowd  has  collected,  Nilikanthe 
announces  that  she  will  sing  to  them  the 
"  Legend  of  the  Pariah's  Daughter. "  Lakme 
sings  as  easily  as  she  talks.  The  first  phrase 
is  a  simple  little  narrative  about  a  maiden 
wandering  at  eve  in  the  forest,  fearless  of 
beast  and  sprite,  for  she  carries  in  her  hand 
a  little  bell  that  wards  off  evil  with  its  merry 
tinkling.  Then  follows  one  of  the  most 
difficult  staccato  fantasias  in  existence,  for 
the  voice  imitates  the  tinkle  of  that  silver 
bell.  The  tones  fall  fast  as  rain-drops  in  a 
shower,  round  as  beads  and  clear  as  crystal. 

The  composer  shows  no  respect  or  rever- 

328 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

ence  for  high  notes.  Upper  B  is  given  a 
"shake"  and  any  amount  of  staccato  raps, 
while  even  high  E,  that  slumbering  "  spirit 
of  the  summit,"  is  also  aroused  to  action. 
In  fact,  this  aria  is  one  of  the  few  that  can 
not  be  poorly  rendered.  To  do  it  at  all 
argues  doing  it  well.  Its  difficulties  protect 
it  like  a  barricade  from  the  attack  of  mediocre 
singers.  The  second  verse  relates  how  the 
maiden  meets  a  stranger,  who  is  saved  from 
the  surrounding  wolves  by  the  tinkle  of 
her  magic  bell.  This  stranger  was  "  great 
Vishnu,  Brahma's  son;  "  and  since  then — 

"In  that  dark  wood 
The  traveler  hears 
Where  Vishnu  stood 
The  sound  of  a  little  bell  ringing." 

Soft  and  clear  as  a  wood-nymph  laughing 
those  marvelous  staccatos  again  peal  forth. 

During  his  daughter's  performance  Nili- 
kanthe  has  been  scanning  the  faces  around 
him,  but  none  reveals  any  emotion  other 
than  the  pleasure  of  listening.  Furious 
that  his  plan  has   not  succeeded,    he  bids 

329 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Lakme  to  sing  it  again — "Louder!"  But 
she  has  suddenly  perceived  Gerald  approach- 
ing; and,  knowing  that  if  he  recognizes  her 
he  will  betray  himself,  she  does  not  wish 
to  sing.  She  pleads  and  entreats,  but  her 
father  is  obdurate.  So  she  begins  with 
pouting  lips  and  trembling  voice.  "  Sing 
out!"  admonishes  Nilikanthe.  As  Gerald 
draws  nearer,  Lakme  becomes  more  and 
more  disturbed.  The  pretty  staccatos  are 
all  out  of  place,  like  blossoms  falling  to 
pieces.  They  are  flat  where  they  should  be 
sharp,  and  minor  instead  of  major;  but  her 
tones,  like  perfect  petals,  are  none  the  less 
lovely  because  detached.  Once,  twice,  three 
times  she  recommences,  always  in  a  higher 
key.  Suddenly  she  utters  a  musical  scream 
as  Gerald  comes  up  to  her,  and  Nilikanthe 
exclaims:   "'Tishe!" 

In  the  mean  time,  Gerald  hears  the  fifes 
and  tambourines  of  his  regiment  and  goes 
to  answer  the  roll-call.  * 

Nilikanthe  summons  his  Hindu  followers 
and  informs  them  that  he  has  discovered 

33^ 


STARS    OF    THE    OPERA. 

the  foe.  This  solo  with  chorus  of  the  con- 
spirators is  minor,  mystcrioso,  and  agitata ; 
it  is  the  most  interesting  bass  solo  of  the 
opera.  The  conspirators  go  off,  leaving 
Lakme  alarmed  and  disconsolate.  Like  a 
faithful  hound,  Hadji,  the  slave,  draws  near 
to  her  and  whispers  that  he  has  seen  her 
tears  and  heard  her  sighs:  "If  you  have  a 
friend  to  save,  confide  in  me."  His  words 
are  parlando,  but  the  orchestra  illumines 
them  with  music  clear  as  a  calcium  light. 
Lakme  grasps  his  hand  in  gratitude,  but 
motions  him  aside  as  she  perceives  Gerald 
thoughtfully  returning. 

The  hero  has  left  his  comrades  at  the  first 
opportunity  and  retraced  his  steps  to  the 
place  he  left  Lakme.  His  joy  on  finding 
her  is  portrayed  in  a  musical  greeting  of 
such  unbounded  rapture  that  one  key  will 
hardly  hold  it.  The  ensuing  love-duet  de- 
serves to  rank  with  the  best.  But  Lakme 
is  more  sad  than  glad,  for  she  knows  of 
impending  danger.  She  urges  him  to  flee, 
and  tells  him  of  "a  little  cabin   hidden   in 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  forest,  quite  near  by,"  where  he  can 
hide  secure  from  his  enemies.  This  Cabin 
Song  is  an  idyllic  refrain,  with  gentle  har- 
monies that  picture  more  than  the  words. 
She  urges  him  to  follow  her ;  but,  in  spite 
of  his  infatuation,  Gerald  realizes  his  duty 
as  a  soldier.     He  dare  not  go. 

Like  dust  before  a  tempest  is  the  succeed- 
ing instrumental  passage  announcing  the 
approach  of  the  great  procession.  The 
notes,  like  atoms,  are  carried  forward  faster 
and  higher,  until  they  come  so  thick  that 
you  can  not  distinguish  them.  This  cloud 
of  music  melts  away  before  the  mighty 
chant  of  the  Brahmins  as  they  march  to  the 
pagoda.  Their  weird  incantation  fills  the 
air  like  a  trumpet-blast.  The  greater  part 
of  this  processional  music  greets  our  ears 
familiarly,  because  it  was  given  in  the  over- 
ture. Upon  this  somber  background  of 
Hindu  harmonies  the  composer  delights 
in  casting  gleams  of  Sullivanesque  music  in 
the  form  of  passing  remarks  from  the  Eng- 
lish onlookers.     The  contrast  is  startling  as 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

magic-lantern  pictures  thrown  upon  the 
pyramids. 

As  the  procession  marches  on,  we  see 
Nilikanthe  point  out  Gerald  to  the  other 
conspirators.  They  cautiously  surround 
him,  and  at  the  bidden  moment  he  is  stabbed 
by  Nilikanthe,  who  then  disappears  in  the 
crowd.  On  hearing  the  victim's  cry,  Lakme 
rushes  forward.  The  stage  is  darkened, 
for  it  is  evening,  and  the  lights  of  the  pro- 
cession are  gone.  The  Hindu  maiden  finds 
Gerald  but  slightly  wounded.  She  calls 
Hadji,  the  slave,  and  then,  without  further 
explanation  on  her  part,  the  instruments 
whisper  to  us  her  intention.  We  hear  the 
soothing  harmonies  of  that  lovely  song 
about  "a  little  cabin  hidden  in  the  forest 
quite  near  by." 

The  second  entr  acte  is  performed  after 
the  rising  of  the  curtain.  We  see  an  Indian 
forest,  dense  of  foliage  and  brilliant  with 
flowers.  At  one  side  is  a  hut,  half  con- 
cealed by  the  shrubbery,  and  near  it  are 
Lakme  and  Gerald,  the  latter  reclining  upon 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

a  bank,  while  she  watches  over  him  as  he 
slumbers.  No  sound  or  movement  mars 
the  effect  of  a  perfect  picture,  and  beneath 
it  all,  like  gold  letters  spelling  out  the  sub- 
ject, come  the  tones  of  that  sweet  melody 
of  the  Cabin  Song.  The  conductor  at  his 
desk  reminds  us  of  an  artist  at  his  easel 
who,  with  a  magic  brush,  traces  in  tone- 
colors  this  beautiful  inscription. 

After  the  entr'acte  Lakme  softly  sings  a 
slumber-song,  simple  as  a  child's  prayer  and 
as  beautiful.  There  are  only  two  phrases 
in  it,  but  they  come  and  go  like  wandering 
thoughts.  When  Gerald  awakes  he  recalls 
how  he  was  brought  here,  while  Lakme 
relates  how  with  wild  herbs  and  the  juice 
of  flowers  he  has  been  restored.  Their 
rapturous  conversation  is  interrupted  by  a 
chorus  from  without,  the  voices  of  young 
men  and  maidens  on  their  way  to  a  fountain 
in  the  forest  from  whence,  it  is  said,  if  two 
lovers  drink  they  will  always  be  united. 
Lakme  solemnly  explains  this  beautiful  be- 
lief and  at  once  proposes  to  bring  a  cup  of 

334 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  water.  "  Wait  for  me,"  she  admonishes 
as  she  runs  out,  and  we  hear  her  voice 
mingle  with  the  far-away  chorus  of  the 
other  lovers. 

During  her  absence  a  comrade  of  Gerald's 
discovers  his  retreat.  The  newcomer  an- 
nounces that  their  regiment  has  orders  to 
move  on,  and  that  if  Gerald  does  not  join 
them  he  will  be  dishonored.  This  visit 
passes  over  like  a  modern  railroad  through 
an  Arcadian  temple.  Poor  Lakme  soon  dis- 
covers the  devastation.  With  charming 
faith  she  extends  her  cup  of  water  to  Gerald, 
but  at  this  moment  he  hears  the  fifes  and 
drums  of  his  regiment.  Lakme  still  offers 
the  cup.  "Drink  and  vow  to  be  mine!" 
But  Gerald  does  not  heed  her  w^ords,  for  he 
is  distracted  with  thoughts  of  duty  and 
honor.     She  also  hears  this  English  music. 

"His  love  is  faltering!"  she  piteously 
cries;  and  then  with  a  decision  as  impulsive 
as  her  nature  she  plucks  a  flower  of  the 
deadly  Datura  and  eats  it  without  being 
observed  by  Gerald. 

335 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

She  turns  to  him  tenderly  and  sings  of 
their  love, — a  melody  so  gentle  and  pathetic 
.  that  he  can  no  longer  resist.  He  picks  up 
the  fallen  goblet,  and  touching  it  to  his  lips 
vows  to  love  forever.  They  sing  together 
a  song  of  exaltation. 

Suddenly  Nilikanthe  breaks  in  upon  them. 
He  brings  his  followers  and  would  kill  Gerald 
at  once,  did  not  Lakme  rush  between  them: 
"  If  a  victim  to  the  gods  must  be  offered,  let 
them  claim  one  in  me !  "  In  tones  of  ecstasy 
she  repeats  the  final  phrase  of  her  love-song; 
but  her  voice  soon  fails,  and  with  a  sudden 
gasp  she  falls  at  the  Brahmin's  feet — dead. 

Like  hot  flames  reaching  up  at  him  from 
the  orchestra  come  the  tones  of  his  terrible 
vow-theme.  The  victim  has  been  offered, 
but  instead  of  glory,  only  ashes  fall  upon 
him. 


336 


fit 


I  Pagliacci 


99 


"I    PAGLIACCI." 

Pagliacci  is  the  Italian  word  for  clowns, 
a  decidedly  unique  subject  for  grand  opera. 
Novelty  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  this 
work.  It  has  already  achieved  fame,  altho 
but  a  child  in  age  and  size,  being  only  a  few 
years  old  and  two  acts  long.  Leoncavallo, 
the  composer  and  librettist,  has  since  writ- 
ten another  opera,  "I  Medici,"  which  has 
found  favor  in  Europe,  but  is  still  unheard 
in  America. 

Pagliacci  is  startling  and  intense  from 
the  entrance  of  the  Prologue  to  the  clown's 
last  word,  ''  finitay  The  music  abounds  in 
surprises,  and  altho  Leoncavallo  has  been 
charged  with  some  plagiarism,  his  work  but 
reflects  the  influence  of  such  recent  compos- 
ers as  Wagner  and  Mascagni. 

The  opening  orchestral  measures  are  of 
peculiar  rhythm,  and  suggest  the  spasmodic 

339 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

tnovement  of  puppets  on  a  string ;  but  this 
implies  no  lack  of  dignity  to  the  composi- 
tion. There  are  passages  that  recall  the 
"  Flying  Dutchman, "  and  Leoncavallo  adopts 
the  Wagnerian  method  of  handling  his 
themes;  in  other  words,  each  one  has  a 
meaning  that  is  adhered  to  throughout  the 
opera.  In  this  introduction  we  hear  the 
warm  and  sunny  love-music,  followed  by 
the  somber  theme  of  revenge  like  a  shadow 
after  light.  Then  the  puppet-music  is 
hastily  resumed,  to  remind  us  that  a  clown 
must  laugh  and  dance,  however  bitter  his 
feelings. 

During  the  overture  a  painted  and  gro- 
tesque personage  steps  before  the  curtain 
and  announces  himself  as  the  Prologue. 
This  innovation  has  prompted  some  wag  to 
remark  that  "the  opera  commences  before 
it  begins!"  Mascagni,  in  his  "  Cavalleria 
Rusticana,"  was  the  first  to  present  an  un- 
conventional opening,  by  having  a  serenade 
behind  the  curtain,  but  Leoncavallo  has  out- 
done his  rival  by  having  a  prologue  in  front 

340 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

of  the  curtain.  He  tells  us  that  the  play  is 
taken  from  life,  and  that  in  spite  of  their 
motley  and  tinsel  the  actors  have  human 
hearts.  This  satisfying  song,  with  its  ap- 
pealing melody  and  large,  resounding  ac- 
companiment, has  never  yet  failed  to  arouse 
an  encore.  With  a  final  signal  for  the  play 
to  begin,  the  Prologue  skips  out  as  the  cur- 
tain goes  up. 

The  scene  represents  an  Italian  village 
gaily  decorated  for  the  "  Feast  of  the  As- 
sumption," an  annual  fete  that  lasts  a  week. 
We  see  at  one  side  a  rough  mimic  theater, 
with  stage  and  curtain,  a  temporary  structure 
erected  for  a  troupe  of  players  who  are  just 
entering  the  town.  There  are  shouting  and 
laughter  behind  the  scenes,  sounds  of  a  dis- 
cordant trumpet  and  a  terrible  drum,  and 
soon  the  villagers  enter,  vociferously  greet- 
ing and  surrounding  a  donkey-cart  in  which 
are  the  players.  It  is  a  meager  troupe, 
consisting  of  Canio,  the  master,  Nedda,  his 
wife,  Beppo,  the  harlequin,  and  Tonio,  the 
fool.     They  wear  fantastic  costumes.     Canio 

341 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

beats  his  big  drum,  while  Nedda  scatters 
play-bills,  and  the  villagers  think  the  troupe 
quite  wonderful.  They  are  welcomed  with 
an  impulsive  sweeping  chorus  that  seems  to 
disregard  all  precedent  in  the  matter  of 
keys.  These  peasants  apparently  sing  in 
an  ungoverned,  unrestrained  way  of  their 
own;  but  as  an  Italian's  tattered  costume  is 
always  picturesque,  so  is  this  artless  music 
most  graceful  and  charming.  Canio  bows 
grotesquely  on  all  sides,  and  again  thumps 
his  drum  to  make  the  people  listen  as  he 
tells  them  that  at  seven  o'clock  the  play  will 
begin : 

"You  all  are  invited, 
And  will  be  delighted 
As  you  witness  the  woes  of  poor  Punchinello, 
Who  revenges  himself  on  a  rascally  fellow. " 

Canio's  professional  music,  such  as  the 
foregoing  speech,  is  made  admirably  artifi- 
cial, thin  and  cheap  as  tissue  paper,  with 
uncertain  accompaniment  and  flimsy  melo- 
dies. 

When  the  excitement  has  subsided,  Tonio, 

the  fool,  offers  to  lift  Nedda  from  the  cart, 

342 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

but  Canio  boxes  his  ears  and  helps  his  own 
wife  down.     The  people  laugh  at  Tonio's 
discomfort,    and    he    goes   off    grumbling. 
This  pantomime  action  and  the  succeeding 
bit   of   dialog   are   accompanied   by   a   rol- 
licking,  hurdy-gurdy  sort  of  motif  in  the 
orchestra.      A  villager  invites  the  players 
to  a  drink  in  the  tavern.     Canio  and  Beppo 
accept,  and  they  call  Tonio  to  come  along, 
but  he  replies  from  behind  the  mimic  theater, 
^'  I  am  cleaning  the  donkey,  and  can't  come." 
The  villager  laughingly  suggests  that  Tonio 
is  only  waiting  for  a  chance  to  court  Nedda. 
Canio  takes  this  joke  rather  seriously,  and 
sings  an  earnest  cantabile  to  the  effect  that 
such  a  game  would  be  dangerous :  "  On  the 
stage,  when  I  find  her  with  a  lover  I  make 
a  funny  speech  and  every  one  applauds ;  but 
in    life — believe  me,   it    would    end   differ- 
ently."    This  last  phrase  is  adapted  to  the 
dismal,  menacing  theme  of  revenge  that  was 
started  like  a  germ  in  the  overture.     It  is 
still  deeply  buried  among  the  instruments, 
but  its  growth  is  steady  from  the  beginning 

343 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

of  the  opera  to  the  end.  Canio  closes  his 
song  by  assuring  all  that  there  is  no  ground 
for  suspicion.  He  embraces  Nedda,  and 
declares  that  he  loves  and  respects  her. 
The  hurgy-gurdy  music  is  resumed,  and 
distant  bagpipes  are  heard, — noises  peculiar 
to  a  village  fete.  The  chorus  sing  with 
much  good  humor,  and  are  accompanied  by 
a  charming  violin  obligate.  Then  comes 
the  Bell  Chorus,  so  named  because  the 
church  bell  calls  them  to  vespers.  "  Pray- 
ers first,  and  then  the  play!"  exclaim  the 
young  people  as  they  go  out.  The  delight- 
ful turns  and  curves  of  this  bell -song  are 
continued  until  quite  in  the  distance. 

Nedda  is  left  alone,  and  the  orchestra, 
like  a  merciless  conscience,  repeats  to  her 
Canio's  threatening  theme.  She  has  a  se- 
cret that  causes  her  to  tremble  as  she  re- 
calls her  husband's  dark  looks  and  words; 
but  her  fears  are  momentary,  for  the  day  is 
bright  and  so  is  her  heart.  She  sings  to 
the  sunshine  and  the  birds  in  the  sky.  A 
gay   tremolo   of  the   stringed    instruments 

344 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

seems  to  fill  the  air  with  feathered  songsters, 
and  they  remind  Nedda  of  a  little  ballad  her 
mother  used  to  croon.  This  popular  balla- 
tella  is  generally  referred  to  as  the  Bird 
Song.  There  is  a  busy,  buzzing  string  ac- 
companiment, and  the  melody  is  a  gentle, 
legato  waltz  movement.  The  last  notes  are 
descriptive  of  a  bird's  flight  "away,  away! " 
so  high  that  the  tone  seems  to  soar  out  of 
sound  as  a  bird  out  of  sight. 

Nedda  turns  around,  and  is  surprised  to 
find  Tonio  listening  with  rapt  adoration. 
He  is  only  a  jester,  and  quite  ridiculous  to 
look  upon  ;  but  he  nevertheless  loves  Nedda, 
and  tells  her  so.  In  this  aria,  Tonio  reveals 
a  depth  of  feeling  that  is  in  touching  con- 
trast to  his  painted  face  and  comical  clothes. 
Nedda  laughs  uproariously  at  his  confession, 
and  with  heartless  sarcasm  she  quotes  the 
scherzando  music  of  the  prospective  play- 
scene,  and  says  he  must  save  his  fine  love- 
making  for  the  stage.  In  vain  Tonio  pleads 
and  falls  on  his  knees.  She  threatens  to 
call  her  husband,  and  finally  snatching  up 

345 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

a  whip,  gives  Tonio  a  smart  blow  on  the 
face.     His  love  is  turned  to  hatred,  and  he 
vows  vengeance  for  this  insult.     He  is  very 
much  in  earnest,  and  indeed  the  composer 
has  given  him  quite  a  fine  vengeance-theme, 
all   his   own.       It   is   heard  groveling  and 
growling  among  the  bass  instruments,  like 
some  disturbed  animal.     Tonio  goes  off  with 
frowns  and  threats,  but  Nedda  forgets  these 
in  the  joy  of  seeing  Silvio.     As  he  cautious- 
ly enters,   the  orchestra  announces  in  the 
plainest  musical  phrases  that  this  newcomer 
is  the  lover.     That  theme  amoroso  is  un- 
mistakable even  had  we  not  been  introduced 
to  it  in  the  prologue.     Throughout  this  love- 
scene  it  is  the  leading  spirit,  sporting  around 
from  treble  to  bass,  now  in  the  orchestra,, 
then  in  the  voice;    sometimes  veiled  in  a 
minor    key    or    suppressed    by    top-heavy 
chords;    again,   it  will  start  to  materialize 
but  at  once  disappear,  or  when  most  unex- 
pected will  push  itself  forward  with  impish, 
delight. 

The  witchery  of  this  music  undermines 

346 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

fear  and  caution.  The  lovers  do  not  notice 
Tonio's  leering  face  as  he  overhears  their 
vows  and  then  goes  off  to  bring  Canio;  nor 
do  they  hear  the  stealthy  approach  of  Tonio's 
revenge  in  the  orchestra.  Nedda  agrees  to 
elope  with  Silvio,  "  to  forget  the  past  and 
love  forever!"  He  has  climbed  the  wall 
and  sings  these  farewell  words  with  Nedda, 
iust  in  time  for  Canio  to  hear  them.  The 
husband  rushes  forward  with  a  cry  of  rage, 
but  he  fails  to  recognize  the  lover.  Nedda 
has  warned  Silvio  to  flee,  and  Canio  scales 
the  wall  in  pursuit.  She  is  left  for  a  mo- 
ment with  Tonio,  who  gloats  over  his  re- 
venge. With  bitter  irony  Nedda  cries 
"Bravo!"  to  his  success.  She  calls  him  a 
coward  and  other  terrible  names,  but  the 
despised  jester  only  shrugs  his  shoulders. 

When  Canio  returns  from  his  futile  chase, 
he  grasps  Nedda,  tortures  her  and  threatens 
her,  but  she  will  not  tell  her  lover's  name. 
He  declares  she  shall  die,  and  wuth  these 
words  that  bitter  revenge-theme  for  the  first 
time  blossoms  out  in  the  voice  part.     It  is 

347 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

sung  and  shouted  by  the  maddened  Canio, 
while  the  director's  baton  swings  over  the 
orchestra  like  a  reaper's  sickle,  gathering  in 
this  full-grown  theme.  Canio  draws  his 
dagger,  but  is  forcibly  restrained  b}^  Beppo, 
who  tries  to  reason  with  his  master.  "  It  is 
time  for  the  play  to  begin.  The  people 
pay  their  money  and  must  be  entertained." 
Kedda  is  told  to  go  and  dress  for  her  part, 
while  Canio  is  advised  to  restrain  his  anger 
until  after  the  play.  He  allows  himself  to 
be  persuaded.  The  others  go  off  to  make 
ready,  and  he  too  must  soon  don  the  paint 
and  powder.  He  looks  sadly  at  the  little 
theater,  and  sings  a  magnificent  aria  that 
attains  the  uttermost  heights  of  pathos. 
He  must  amuse  the  people  while  his  heart 
is  breaking.  He  dare  not  weep  as  other 
men,  for  "  I  am  only  a  clown."  Canio  goes 
off  sobbing  as  the  curtain  descends. 

An  intermezzo  of  much  beauty  and  deep 
feeling  is  performed  by  the  orchestra  be- 
tween the  acts.  Its  opening  measures  re- 
call the  funeral  march  of  the  "  Gotterdam- 

348 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

merung" — dolorous,  heart-weary  passages 
that  presently  break  away  with  a  nervous 
energy  into  the  cantabile  theme  of  the 
prologue.  This  intermezzo  is  not  long,  and 
we  are  again  enlivened  by  the  scene  on  the 
stage. 

It  is  evening,  "at  seven  o'clock,"  and 
the  mimic  theater  is  illuminated  by  gay 
lanterns.  The  people  are  flocking  to  the 
performance,  and  they  drag  forward  benches 
and  chairs  to  sit  upon.  Tonio  stands  at  one 
side  of  the  little  stage  beating  a  drum,  while 
Beppo  blows  the  trumpet  w^hich  is  still  out 
of  tune,  and  therefore  the  opening  bars  of 
this  act  are  exactly  like  the  first.  These 
good  people  make  a  great  rush  and  fuss  in 
getting  their  seats,  and  they  sing  a  simple, 
hearty  refrain  about  the  great  event  of  see- 
ing a  play.  The  original  and  refreshing 
chorus  that  delighted  us  in  the  first  act  is 
repeated,  and  we  become  as  excited  and 
eager  as  the  villagers  to  witness  the  per- 
formance about  to  take  place  on  that  little 
wooden  stage  with   its  cheap  red  curtain. 

349 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Silvio  is  among  the  crowd,  and  he  finds  a 
chance  to  speak  with  Nedda  as  she  passes 
the  money-box.  He  arranges  to  meet  her 
after  the  play,  and  she  admonishes  him  to 
be  careful.  After  she  has  collected  the 
money  the  players  go  back  of  the  scenes. 
A  little  bell  is  rung,  and  the  wonderful  red 
curtain  goes  up. 

The  comedy  is  called  "  Columbine  and 
Punchinello,"  and  Nedda,  who  plays  the 
part  of  Columbine,  is  discovered  sitting  by 
a  table.  The  room  is  roughly  painted  and 
Nedda  wears  some  cheap  finery,  but  the 
people  applaud  and  think  it  beautiful.  The 
play-music  is  all  angular  and  grotesque, 
glaring  effects  thrown  on  in  splashes  like 
an  impressionist  painting.  It  is  admirably 
appropriate,  and  perhaps  the  most  unique 
stroke  in  the  opera. 

To  return  to  the  action  of  the  mimic  play. 
Columbine  soliloquizes  for  a  moment  about 
her  husband  Punchinello,  whom  she  does 
not  expect  home  until  morning.  She  looks 
toward  the  window  and  evidently  expects 

350 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

some  one  else.  The  pizzicato  tuning  of  a 
violin  is  heard  through  the  window.  The 
player  gets  his  instrument  to  the  right  pitch 
and  then  sings  a  serenade  to  the  "  fair 
Columbine."  She  would  fain  receive  her 
adorer,  but  at  this  moment  the  servant 
(Tonio)  enters.  He  looks  at  Columbine, 
and  with  exaggerated  music  and  ridiculous 
sighs  informs  the  hearers  that  he  loves  her, 
and  now  that  the  husband  is  away  he  finds 
courage  to  abruptly  get  on  his  knees.  Col- 
umbine pays  no  attention  to  his  love-ma- 
king, but  she  accepts  the  property  chicken 
that  he  takes  from  his  basket.  The  village 
spectators  laugh  and  applaud.  The  scene 
on  the  mimic  stage  is  next  enlivened  by  the 
lover  (Beppo),  who  climbs  in  through  the 
window,  and  on  seeing  the  servant  promptly 
takes  hold  of  his  ear  and  shows  him  out  of 
the  room.  The  spectators,  of  course,  laugh 
at  this  and  think  the  whole  play  very  funny. 
Columbine  entertains  her  lover  by  giving 
him  a  good  supper.  Their  harmonious  con- 
versation includes  a  charming  and  graceful 

351 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

gavotte  melody  that  is  decidedly  the  gem  of 
this  play-music.  Its  dainty  elegance  and 
classic  simplicity  are  worthy  of  Bach  himself. 
The  servant  rushes  in  upon  the  supper- 
scene,  and  with  mock  agitation  announces 
that  Punchinello  is  coming.  The  lover 
hurries  out  of  the  window  as  the  husband 
enters.  It  is  Canio,  the  real  husband,  who 
acts  this  part,  and  as  he  sees  Nedda  at  the 
window  he  is  struck  with  the  similarity  of 
the  play  to  the  reality.  For  a  moment  the 
play-music  is  dropped  and  we  hear  the  seri- 
ous love-theme  of  the  opera  closely  pursued 
by  that  bitter  wail  of  revenge  that  clings 
and  creeps  around  it  like  a  poison-vine. 
Canio  chokes  down  his  grief  and  bravely 
tries  to  go  through  his  burlesque  part.  A 
new,  jerky  little  melody  accompanies  the 
remarks  of  Punchinello,  and  it  would  be 
very  gay  were  it  not  written  in  the  minor, 
which  gives  it  a  touching  effect  of  faint- 
heartedness. Punchinello  asks  Columbine 
who  has  been  with  her,  and  she  replies, 
"  Only  the  servant. "     But-  Punchinello  again 

352 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

asks  who  was  the  man — "  tell  tne  his  name." 
The  last  words  are  real,  and  Canio  no  longer 
acts  a  part.  Nedda  tries  to  keep  up  the 
farce,  and  the  serious  themes  and  play- 
music  alternate  as  the  scene  goes  on.  With 
curses,  threats,  and  entreaties  Canio  tries  to 
learn  the  name  of  Nedda's  lover,  and  Silvio 
in  the  audience  becomes  uneasy ;  but  the 
other  villagers  only  think  it  is  fine  acting. 
When  Canio  at  last  buries  his  face  in  sobs 
as  he  recalls  how  much  he  loved  his  w^ife, 
the  people  shout  "  Bravo !  " 

Nedda  again  tries  to  resume  the  play. 
She  forces  herself  to  smile  and  sing  the  gay 
gavotte ;  but  this  only  maddens  Canio  the 
more.  With  tones  of  fury  he  declares  that 
she  shall  either  die  or  tell  her  lover's  name. 
Nedda  defies  him,  and  her  words  are  sus- 
tained by  a  distorted  arrangement  of  the 
love-theme,  which  effect  is  like  seeking  con- 
cealment behind  a  skeleton.  The  music 
has  become  as  breathless  as  the  situation. 
Nedda  tries  to  escape  toward  the  spectators, 
but  Canio  holds  her,  and  there  follows  a 
23  353 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

piercing  shriek.  Nedda  has  been  stabbed. 
She  falls,  and  with  her  dying  breath  calls 
"Silvio!  "  Canio  turns  upon  her  lover  and 
completes  vengeance  with  a  single  stroke. 
The  orchestra  now  trumpets  forth,  like  the 
expounding  of  a  moral,  that  poignant  theme 
whose  growth  and  supremacy  we  have 
watched.  The  village  spectators  are  still 
puzzled,  and  can  hardly  believe  that  the 
tragedy  is  real,  Tonio  comes  forward  and 
announces  in  parlando  voice  that  "the 
comedy  is  finished !  " 


"  Pagliacci  "  only  occupies  half  an  eve- 
ning, and  even  with  the  "  Australian  Night- 
ingale "  and  a  great  tenor  in  the  cast  the 
public  still  expect  "  some  more. "  New  York- 
ers have  become  spoiled  by  the  great  per- 
formances lately  given  at  the  opera-house. 
We  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  "  Don 
Giovanni  "  should  be  given  with  Lehmann, 
Sembrich,  Nordica,  Edouard  de  Reszke  and 
Maurel,  and  quite  expect  "  The  Huguenots  " 
to  have  in  its  cast  two  great  sopranos  and 

354 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  two  de  Reszkes.  We  have  an  idea  that 
a  large  city  like  New  York  should  expect 
nothing  less,  and  are  not  sure  but  the 
European  capitals  do  better.  In  point  of 
fact,  however,  when  Madame  Sembrich 
sings  in  Berlin  the  royal  opera-house  is 
crowded  by  the  attraction  of  her  name  alone; 
and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Madame 
Melba  in  Paris,  or  Calve,  or  any  of  them. 
There  are  never  more  than  six  or  seven 
great  prima  donnas  in  the  world  at  one  time, 
and  when  one  of  these  sings  in  Europe  the 
rest  of  the  company  is  often  mediocre.  But 
not  so  in  New  York.  After  "  Pagliacci  "  with 
Melba,  "  Cavalleria  "  with  Calve  is  the  usual 
program — a  rather  unfortunate  combination 
of  operas,  for  they  are  both  so  feverishly 
intense.  After  the  "beautiful  horror"  of 
"  Pagliacci's "  finale,  a  contrast  might  be 
welcome.  Gllick's  "Orpheus  and  Eury- 
dice  "  is  a  short  opera  that  alongside  of  Leon- 
cavallo's work  would  delight  the  musical 
epicure.  Such  an  opportunity  to  study  the 
new  and  the  old  would  surely  be  beneficial. 

355 


"Orpheus 
and  Eurydice 


99 


tt 


ORPHEUS   AND    EURYDICE." 


Classic  myth  and  classic  music  are  in  this 
opera  happily  united.  The  beautiful  legend 
belongs  to  the  past,  but  Gliick  the  composer, 
like  Orpheus  the  musician,  has  brought  the 
departed  to  life.  With  gentle  harmonies 
he  pacified  those  surrounding  Furies,  the 
critics,  and  his  creation  has  attained  a  last- 
ing place  in  the  musical  world.  Simplicity 
and  sincerity  stamp  the  entire  composition. 
The  musical  thoughts  are  put  down  in  the 
plainest,  straightest  way,  in  strong  contrast 
to  the  old  Italian  style,  whose  profuse  em- 
bellishments remind  one  of  ornate  penman- 
ship. Gliick  lived  more  than  a  century 
ago,  but  his  ideas  anticipated  many  of  our 
modern  formulas.  He  succeeded  in  im- 
parting a  musical  individuality  to  all  his 
characters. 

To   properly   enjoy   Gliick 's   masterpiece 

359 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

the  listener  should  present  himself  with  a 
spirit  as  gentle  as  the  composer.  The  opera 
is  more  idyllic  than  overpowering.  Enjoy 
it  as  you  would  a  perfect  day  in  some  peace- 
ful valley. 

The  overture  to  "  Orpheus  and  Eurydice  " 
is  not  remarkable.  It  bears  no  theme- 
feature  in  common  with  the  opera,  and  its 
kinship  is  only  discernible  in  name  and 
nature,  both  opera  and  overture  being  de- 
void of  ostentation. 

The  curtain  rises  upon  a  Grecian  land- 
scape that  is  beautiful  but  sad,  for  amid 
drooping  willows  and  solemn  pines  stands 
the  tomb  of  Eurydice.  Orpheus,  the  dis- 
consolate husband,  is  leaning  upon  the 
shrine.  Not  even  his  lute  can  solace  him 
in  this  hour  of  grief.  A  dirge  of  unrivaled 
beauty  arises  from  the  orchestra  like  a 
flower  from  the  earth.  It  is  taken  up  by 
the  chorus  and  given  as  an  oifering  to  the 
departed.  There  is  something  mythical 
about  the  music  as  well  as  the  scene.     All 

nature  seems  to  join   in  this  lament  over 

360 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

Eurydice.      Ever   and   anon    Orpheus   pro- 
claims her  name  in  tones  so  pitiful  that — 

"The  rocks  and  rills  and  surrounding  hills 
Feel  pity,  and  are  touched.** 

He  asks  the  chorus  to  scatter  flowers  upon 
her  grave  and  then  leave  him  alone,  for 
their  song  but  adds  to  his  grief..  Accom- 
panied by  an  orchestral  ritornelle  of  Arca- 
dian simplicity,  they  strew  their  garlands 
and  then  retire. 

The  wood-wind  and  viol  follow   Orpheus 

in   his  solitary  plaint   that   again   reminds 

us  of  the  voice  of  nature.     It  is  a  feminine 

voice,   too,    a    fact    worth   mentioning,    for 

Orpheus   is   now   considered   the   contralto 

role  de  resistance.     After  vainly  beseeching 

high  heaven  and  all  the  gods  to  restore  his 

lost  Eurydice,  Orpheus  decides  to  brave  the 

realms  of  Pluto.     He  will  himself  wrest  her 

from  death's  power.     The  gods  help  those 

that  help  themselves,  and  now  Amor,   the 

god  of  love,  comes  to  his  assistance.     Amor 

says  he  shall  descend  in  safety  to  the  lower 

world,  and  will  find  his  Eurydice  among  the 

361 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

peaceful  shades.  He  must  take  his  lute,  and 
perchance  by  the  power  of  music  he  can 
induce  Pluto  to  release  her.  Was  there 
ever  a  more  charming"  story  for  an  opera! 
Amor  further  dictates  that  while  leading 
Eurydice  to  the  upper  world  he  must  not 
look  upon  her,  else  all  endeavor  will  have 
been  in  vain,  and  death  will  at  once  claim 
his  own.  After  promising  to  obey,  Orpheus 
sings  a  song  full  of  gratitude,  with  here  and 
there  a  gleam  of  gladness  like  flecks  of  sun- 
light after  rain.  His  final  aria  is  the  very 
noontide  of  joy,  dignified  always  but  none 

« 

the  less  radiant.     Gliick  here  finds  use  for 

colorature — plain,  classical  scales  and  broken 

thirds  without   any  appoggiaturas  or  even 

staccatos;    but  his  even-tempoed  sixteenth 

notes  seem  as  gay  as  Rossini's  breathless 

sixty-fourths. 

The  second  act  is  the  most   interesting. 

It    pictures   the   nether    world    of    Hades. 

There  are  vistas  of  receding  caverns  full  of 

smoke   and    flames.     Furies    and    Demons 

occupy  the  vStage.     According  to  Gliick,  the 

362 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

brass    instruments    fnrnish    the    music    of 
Hades,   in   opposition   to  the   harps,   which 
belong    to   heaven.       The   first    tones    are 
hurled  up  by  the  trumpets  like  a  blast  of 
molten  rocks.     Then  like  a  balm  to  all  the 
senses,    nectar   after   poison,    incense  after 
sulfur,    day   after    night,    come    the    next 
celestial  harmonies.     It  is  Orpheus  with  his 
lute,  whose  harp-tones  reach  us  from  afar, 
as  this  musician  of  the  gods  plays  his  way 
through  the  gates  of  Hades.     For  a  moment 
the  Furies  cease  their  revel,  as  they  wonder 
what  mortal  dares  to  enter  here.       When 
they  resume  their  dance  the  orchestra  ren- 
ders a  reeling,  demoniacal  medley  of  scales 
and   staccatos.     Again  the    Furies  stop   as 
they   see   Orpheus   approaching,    and   they 
sing   a   malediction    upon   this    mortal    so 
audacious.     They  try  to  frighten  him  with 
howls   from    the   watch-dog    Cerberus,    an 
effect  admirably  represented  by  the  instru- 
ments.    The  music  is  all  fearful  and  threat- 
ening,  with  creeping  chromatics  shrouded 
in  a  minor  key. 

3^3> 


STARS   OF   THE   OPERA. 

Orpheus  is  undaunted;  and  with  endur- 
ing faith  in  the  power  of  his  music  he  takes 
up  his  harp  and  sings  to  them  of  his  love 
for  Eurydice.  Entreating  their  pity,  he 
begs  them  to  let  him  pass;  but  Cerberus 
still  howls  and  the  Furies  shout  "  No ! " 
They  threaten  him  with  eternal  torture,  but 
the  inspired  youth  sings  on.  No  punish- 
ment they  can  devise  could  exceed  the  grief 
he  already  suffers — such  is  the  burden  of 
his  song.  Even  the  Demons  and  Furies 
can  not  long  resist  such  tender  strains. 
With  bated  breath  they  wonder  what  strange 
feeling  steals  o'er  them,  for  pity  is  a  new 
sensation :  "  The  cheeks  of  the  Furies  were 
wet  with  tears;  all  Hades  held  its  breath." 
Three  times  the  wondrous  song  and  accom- 
paniment still  the  shrieks  of  Pluto's  realm. 
Orpheus  is  finally  allowed  to  pass.  The 
Furies  and  Demons  hasten  to  drown  their 
recent  emotion  in  a  mad  revel  that  surpasses 
the  first  one.  This  demon-dance  is  admir- 
ably characterized  by  the  music.  It  is  a 
rapid   tempo  and  a   perpetual  motion  that 

364 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

suggest  dancing  on  hot  iron.  Tremolos 
rise  and  fall  like  puffs  of  smoke,  while 
scales  like  coiling  snakes  and  staccatos  like 
skipping  imps  add  to  the  effect  of  pande- 
monium. 

Act  III.  pictures  the  Elysian  fields,  the 
abode  of  the  blest  where  "  calm  and  eternal 
rest  '*  pervade  even  the  music.  The  or- 
chestral introduction  is  saintly,  with  its 
religious  harmonies  and  classic  purity.  It 
is  simple,  but  yet  so  interesting  that  we 
can  imagine  the  immortal  spirits  hearing 
forever  and  never  wearv,  for  classical  music 
is  always  new  and  always  beautiful.  The 
flute  and  stringed  instruments  perform  the 
great  part  of  this  Elysian  music.  White- 
robed  spirits  glide  about,  and  one  soprano 
voice  starts  up  a  happy,  flowing  melody  that 
inspires  a  chorus  of  others.  It  is  Eurydice 
who  leads  this  singing  of  the  blest. 

There  is  dancing  as  well  as  singing,  and 
during  this  divertisement  the  instruments 
weave  out  a  new  musical  fabric.  The  steady 
accompaniment  and   firm  legato  theme  are 

365 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

the  woof  and  warp  through  which,  around 
which,  and  over  which  a  little  five-note  ap- 
poggiatura .  sports  like  a  weaver's  shuttle. 
It  appears  four  times  in  every  measure,  but 
never  twice  in  the  same  place. 

With  wonder  and  admiration  comes  Or 
pheus  upon  the  scene.  The  orchestra  con- 
tinues its  blithe  harmonies  while  Orpheus 
sings  of  the  beauteous  sight.  But  not  even 
such  surroundings  can  quell  his  longing  for 
Eurydice.  Unlike  the  Furies,  who  only 
granted  his  prayer  because  compelled  by 
his  wondrous  music,  the  spirits  of  the  blest 
can  not  see  any  one  suffer.  With  one  voice 
and  immediately  they  tell  him  to  take  Eu- 
r3^dice-  To  the  strains  of  softest  music 
Orpheus  approaches  the  various  spirits. 
He  barkens  to  their  heart-beats,  and  finally 
recognizes  his  loved  one  without  seeing  her. 

The  scene  changes  to  another  part  of  the 
nether  world,  a  forest  through  which  Or- 
pheus is  leading  Eurydice  back  to  earth.  A 
nervous,  anxious  instrumental  passage  pre- 
cedes the  opening  recitative  dialogue.     Eu- 

366 


STARS    OF    THE   OPERA. 

rydice  at  jBrst  rejoices  over  her  new-found 
life,  but  then  forgets  all  else  in  surprise  and 
grief  because  Orpheus  will  not  look  at  her. 
She  questions  him,  entreats  him,  fears  she 
is  no  longer  beautiful,  or  that  his  heart  has 
changed.  Orpheus  explains  that  he  dare 
not  look  at  her,  but  Eurydice  is  not  satisfied. 
She  refuses  to  go  farther,  for  if  he  can  not 
look  at  her  she  does  not  wish  to  live.  The 
ensuing  duet  is  intense  and  full  of  climac- 
teric effects.  The  voices  chase  each  other 
like  clouds  before  a  storm,  low  down  and 
hovering  near  that  sea  of  sound,  the  or- 
chestra, over  which  the  conductor  rules  with 
his  wand  like  Neptune  with  his  trident. 

Orpheus  firmly  resists  the  pleadings  of 
Eurydice  until  she  declares  that  his  cold- 
ness will  break  her  heart, — she  will  die  of 
grief  if  he  does  not  look  at  her.  Little 
wonder  that  he  flings  prudence  to  the  winds 
and  impulsively  turns  to  embrace  her. 

But  no  sooner  has  he  looked  upon  Eury- 
dice than  she  droops  and  sinks  from  his  arms 
like  a  blighted    flower.     Death    has   again 

367 


STARS    OF   THE   OPERA. 

come  between  them.  Orpheus  cries  aloud 
his  grief,  and  there  springs  from  his  heart 
a  song  of  lamentation  surpassing  any  other 
as  a  geyser  does  a  fountain.  "  Ach,  ich 
habe  sie  verloren ! "  is  the  German  and 
"  Che  in  faro "  the  Italian  name  of  this 
great  song  that  is  the  standard  classical  con- 
tralto program  piece.  It  is  full  of  sobbing 
cadenzas  and  sighing  intervals  that  express 
more  than  words  or  deeds. 

Grief  at  last  gives  place  to  desperation : 
He  is  on  the  point  of  killing  himself  when 
Amor  reappears.  The  gods  are  again  moved 
to  pity  by  his  enduring  love,  and  Amor  with 
a  touch  of  her  wand  revives  Eurydice. 

The  opera  closes  with  a  trio  between 
Amor  and  the  reunited  pair,  an  ode  to  the 
power  of  love.  It  is  a  sort  of  musical 
apotheosis.  The  orchestral  accompaniment 
has  a  steady,  revolving  movement  that 
might  suggest  the  wheel  of  time  tuned  and 
turned  in  harmony  with  the  voice  of  love. 


368 


ML400.W3 
C037079845 

U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CD37D7TflM5 


DATE  DUE 


Music  Library 

University  of  California  at 
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